


Heiresses Prefer Bikers

by Queen_Penthesileia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Biker AU, Cliche and tropes galore!, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Crack, I am so sorry for this, Pining, but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Penthesileia/pseuds/Queen_Penthesileia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heiress Darcy Lewis needs more than a date to her father’s wedding. Avengers Motorcycle Club VP Bucky Barnes might be the one to give it to her. He just needs to figure out how it all went wrong that night.</p><p> </p><p>a.k.a- the ridiculously cliche fake relationship/biker AU no one ever knew they wanted. You're welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to CatrinaSL for editing this chapter for me!!!
> 
> I've written in the Inuyasha fandom for over a decade, but I've only sneakily slunk around Darcyland for a year. This is the second world I've ever written in. So I'm not super thrilled with my characterizations yet, but bear with me until I figure out what I'm doing. 
> 
> I researched for this story by binge watching Sons of Anarchy and Gossip Girl. Any mistakes I make are my own, and not the fault of these highly factual and realistic tv shows.
> 
> This is either the best or the worst thing I've ever done. So let me know ;)

**Chapter 1**

**Avengers Clubhouse**

**12:08 AM**

“You’re brooding.”

Bucky takes a chug from his new best friend, Jack Daniels, because fuck Steve Rogers if he’s going to nag him in the middle of a crazy biker rager. 

Steve drops next to him on the bench, bumping his shoulder into his. “Gonna share any of that?”

Bucky’s fingers tighten around the bottle. “No.”

“He speaks.” Steve waits expectedly, like the floodgates are opening and he’s about to be hit with all of James Buchanan Barnes’ ‘feels.’

He swallows down the tightness in his throat, drinking away Darcy Lewis’s ridiculous slang lessons. 

Like he needed to know what all those stupid <3 symbols she texted him meant. He didn’t care that she loved emailing him dumb cat videos, and constantly bugged him about who he ‘shipped.’ He was just fine with filling his phone with work mail and hospital bills, he didn’t need her cluttering it up with Sherlock memes. 

And she was fucking ridiculous anyway for thinking Sherlock belonged with Molly and not John. He didn’t go around pointing out Steve’s excellent cheekbones. It was so obvious, it was painful Darcy couldn't see it. It’s just as well he’s pissed at her. She has the worst headcanons ever. 

He guzzles another swig of alcohol. Fuck Darcy Lewis’s bad fandom opinions. 

Steve sighs. “You’re alone, scowling at a bonfire, and hoarding alcohol. If Darcy were here, she’d probably make a crack about you taking notes from her pouting vampires on MTV.” 

The burning in his stomach hurts less than the gnawing frustration in his gut so he drains the rest of the bottle. He might destroy his liver after tonight, but fuckever. “CW.” 

“What?”

“The vampire show she likes. It’s on the CW.”

Steve stretches his legs out next to him to settle back against the edge, elbows on the table like he’s planning on staying awhile. “And now I’m even more confused why you’re brooding at the pig roast instead of dancing your girl around at that fancy party. Isn’t it tonight?”

He drank that damn booze too soon. “Not my girl.” And he doesn’t care anymore that he bailed on her and left her alone at the wedding she’d been dreading.

Not. One. Damn. Bit. 

Steve just fucking _hums_ , like he knows something special because he’s the fucking club president and is wiser than all these peasants and Jesus Christ, does Bucky want to fucking punch him right now. “That’s not the way it looked to the rest of us. Tony’s been taking bets on when you snap from all the sexual tension.” 

He nudges Bucky with his elbow, leaning in a bit. “My wager doesn’t come up for another two days, so you scowling here like a chump with no Darcy in sight is very encouraging. Clint was thinking you wouldn’t man up for another month.”

Fuck it, president or not, Bucky is annihilating him if he keeps pushing. And he’s kicking Tony just on principle. 

Clint...he’s got plans for Clint now. “All of you looked wrong. It was a job and now it’s done. End of story.”

Steve twists the neck of his beer bottle between his fingers, staring at the giant bonfire in the center of their compound. The garage and the shop is closed for the night, so everyone’s gathered in the courtyard or making sides in the kitchen and arranging picnic tables around the perimeter of the fence. 

A few girls dance around the flames to the rock music coming out of the speakers, distracting the new prospect who’s roasting the pig. The rest of the Avengers are giving them a wide berth, most surrounded by their own little court of admirers. Nat and Clint are off by themselves, whispering like two gossipy high schoolers. Thor is with Jane in his room, probably stroking her tonsils with his tongue, and Tony’s managed to convince some of their groupies to wash his bike while wearing nothing but white t-shirts. Maria is very happily judging a shirtless push up contest from civilians hoping to get an invite to the club, and who the hell knows where Sam is after Bucky snarled at him. The few others who tried to approach him earlier didn’t seem to want to be bitched at again. Just Steve.

And only because Darcy isn’t here to poke him out of his bad mood. 

He’s ignoring that pang in his heart, swear to Christ. It’s not really there. 

Steve takes a long, slow sip. Probably pausing for effect, the over dramatic bastard. “Is that really how you want the story to end?” 

“Fucking hell, Rogers, stop watching Lifetime.” Bucky stands up, dropping his empty bottle on the table. “I’m getting shitfaced if you’re going to force me to listen to this all night.” 

“I’ll listen instead if you want to talk,” Steve says, sounding more hopeful than any biker leader decked out in leather and weapons has a right to be. 

“Go get your dick back from Carter.” He’ll feel bad about that later, because he likes Carter and hopes she’ll keep Steve’s dick for awhile, but right now the last thing he wants is ‘talk.’ 

Because if he’s talking, that means he’s remembering every godawful, terrible word he threw at a girl that really didn’t deserve it. He’s feeling that pounding regret tearing apart his heart; that he let down someone who could’ve mattered. 

Holy Christ, did he fuck up tonight with Darcy. And he doesn’t want to deal with it yet. 

Steve has every right to punch him, but God bless the man, he just tries again. “If you’re really upset, we got a few new warrants in this afternoon. We can go beat the Nazi out of some Hydra assholes until you feel better.”

Normally, he’d be all for that. But since their rival biker gang is half the reason he’s in this mess with Darcy?

“Just fuck off, Steve. I don’t want to hear it tonight.” Tomorrow, he might be willing. Tomorrow, maybe he’ll put out an assemble order and drag the Avengers to church so they could help him write a forgiveness-text using Darcy’s silly pop culture words. He might even throw money into Tony’s pool, because he’s not going to take a month to man up, fuck you very much, Clint. 

Maybe. If he wakes up, and isn’t a chickenshit coward again. But that’s for tomorrow, not tonight. 

Steve frowns, “You know, Buck—”

He never finds out what Steve ‘knows,’ because the gates to the compound crash open, a strangely familiar white Ferrari roaring through. It’s covered in flowers, a piece of cardboard flopping behind the trunk. But he knows who it is. 

Steve’s got his hand on his gun before Bucky shoves his chest. “Wait. Stand down!” The music abruptly cuts off when one of the girls trips over the cord, panic echoing off the gated walls. He ignores the screaming from the civilians, waving his arms at the other Avengers. “Stand the fuck down!” 

They ease away from their weapons when the door pops open, red fabric spilling out onto the pavement. Gold high heels follow, clicking lightly on the concrete as Darcy steps out of the car.

Bucky’s heart twists. Darcy’s not beautiful, she’s fucking _magnificent_. That frothy, elaborate red dress she was so excited about fits her pin-up body to perfection, clinging to every curve jealously. Expensive gemstones glitter at her neck, drip from her ears, and dot her upswept hair. And he’d bet his bike that those straps of gold leather wrapped around her feet are worth well over a thousand, and turns her ass into a million. 

She looks like the dream he’d never admit to having.

But the flames flicker light over the bruise swelling her eye, the split in her lip. That was never part of the fantasy. 

His heart splatters across the concrete. “Darcy—”

She holds a palm out, dirt smeared across her skin. “ _Don’t_.”

He wants to step forward. He _should_ step forward, but his feet don’t move. She’s scaring him, with that look in her eyes. The light that used to sparkle when she laughed or gave him stupid nicknames, or just _breathed_ , is gone.

Bucky flinches when she passes him, her arm dropping back down. Not even a glance in his direction. 

That ache in his gut thickens into dread. 

The click-clack of her heels is the only noise in the compound’s courtyard. Darcy doesn’t seem to notice the party’s stopped, everyone frozen in place. Her eyes are fixed on the bonfire. 

Steve takes a careful step forward. “Darcy?” 

She snatches a bottle of whiskey from the liquor table, twisting the cap off instead of acknowledging Steve. She wraps her ruby lips around the neck and chugs, tilting the bottle back. 

Darcy stops dangerously close to the flames. Her hands are balled into fists at her side, shoulders tense. 

Bucky’s pulse pounds in his throat. It’s been a very long time since he’s been afraid. But right now? He’s fucking terrified. Their fight wasn’t good, but he never should have left her alone tonight, no matter what was said. “Doll—”

Darcy drops the bottle. He jumps at the shattering glass, but she doesn’t notice, yanking her side zipper down. Her dream dress slips off her shoulders, pools at her feet. She wads it up into a ball and throws it into the flames. 

The bonfire eats at the fabric greedily, the fire reaching over her head. She doesn’t hesitate before she’s ripping her glittering necklace off her neck, little stones pinging on the ground, her earrings and every single jeweled hairpin following into the flames. The gems smoulder in their settings, turning smoky around the edges. 

Her dark hair falls down her back in a crazed mess of curls and waves, brushing the top of the black lace corset and barely-there panty set he’d hoped to see under different circumstances. Like maybe when she was under him and screaming; not discovering her pyro-side and burning a $30,000 outfit. 

She kicks her golden shoes into the fire, the leather molting into a tainted brown and twisting in on itself. Bruises cover more of her skin than what’s left of her clothing, a small trickle of blood dripping down her back from a jagged cut on her shoulder. 

She’s almost naked, staring into the flames. Like she’s considering throwing herself in next. 

His vest is on the ground and he’s unbuttoning his shirt before he realizes all he wants is to wrap her up nice and tight, tuck her away somewhere safe and ride out to slaughter her demons. Screw what he’d said about being done with her. He would have gone crawling back to her tomorrow anyway. 

Darcy’s shoulders hunch up, like she knows what he’s thinking “Don’t come near me, Barnes,” She’s colder than he’s ever heard before. Contempt dripping from every word. 

His fingers fist in his flannel. Not only did he fuck up, but something horribly wrong happened tonight. After he stormed off like a brat, leaving her to the tender mercies of her family. 

He’s killing every single one of them and leaving their bones for coyotes to gnaw on for destroying whatever hope Darcy had left. 

“Darcy Lewis!”

She breaks away from the fire finally to face Ray Lewis, furious and pushing his way through a crowd of bikers, very much out of place even if he wasn’t still in his tuxedo. 

Somehow, she only looks angrier, her chin tilting up stubbornly. She screws her lips up into a fake smile, practically baring her teeth. “Dad! You made it!” She twirls around like a demented ballerina, her hands outstretched in ‘welcome’. “Thanks so much for finding time to come down to the club on your wedding night,” She nods toward the phone he clutches in his hand. “Especially considering what your wife might get up to without you.”

She’s got that snotty tone of voice that sets his teeth on edge and makes him yearn to put her over his knee. Her armor’s up, and there’s no reaching her now even if he hadn’t pushed her away. 

Like she knows he’s about to throw her behind him, fight or not, Darcy glares at him. Eyebrow slightly raised, head tilted to the side. He’s seen that ‘play-along’ look. For some reason she’s orchestrated this little scene, and if she wants it, she’s getting it. 

He shakes his head at Steve, taking a step back. Let her handle this without club involvement.

Her father’s trembling, his hair a ragged mess and his pants are covered in mud. Bucky’s never even seen him with a hair out of place or away from his country club world. But here he is in a biker den looking like he’s about to choke from rage. 

A small burst of pride unfurls in his chest underneath all the worry. Whatever happened, Darcy is clearly done taking her family’s shit.

“Goddamn you, Darcy!” Ray hurls his iPhone at the fire and rakes his hands through his hair again, clutching at the ends. Darcy doesn’t even blink at the snapping pop the fire makes as it eats away at the plastic. “What do you think you’re doing to us?”

Darcy shrugs, all false-innocence. “What you taught me. I stopped valuing what had no appreciation.”

“This is not a business lesson, goddamn it, this is my life!” Her father moans, pressing his hand over his heart, “Darcy, this’ll ruin me.”

“Oh, don’t be so overdramatic, Dad. The pictures will just embarrass you. And only because you’ve insisted on maintaining such a family-friendly image.” Her smile turns cruel, and it sends chills down his spine. “But that’s not what I did to ruin you.”

All the color drains from his face, sweat beading on his temples. “What did you do?”

Darcy sways a bit on her toes, narrowly avoiding the glass shards on her bare feet. She fidgets like a little girl with a secret. “Did you think I was _just_ pushing papers around for you?”

Blood rushes back into Ray’s face, filling him with rage. “You stupid girl, _what did you find?”_

Darcy giggles. Drunk on booze, or drunk on cold fury, Bucky’s not sure. It’s not a charming sound. “There’s going to be a lot of people upset at you, Daddy.” She waves her hand towards Steve. “Present company included. I thought I’d give you one chance to say sorry before it’s too late.” 

Ray meets Darcy’s eyes dead-on. “Everything Michael ever said about you was right.”

Darcy flinches like he hit her, her arms reflexively crossing over her stomach. “You deserve everything that’s coming.”

“You listen to me, Darcy Lewis,” Ray pulls at his bowtie, leaving it hanging haphazardly around his neck, “Whatever you did, you undo it unless you want to be cut off. And put some damn clothes on!”

“Jesus Christ man, that’s what you’re worried about?” Tony finally blurts out, in what was probably the longest he’d ever gone without speaking. “Not the bruises she’s covered in?”

Ray glares at Tony, nose tilted up. “This is a private family matter. Stay out of it.”

“It’s alright, Tony.” Darcy is too calm now. “He’s not worried about them because he knows where they came from.” 

Steve grips Bucky’s shoulder. Hard. It’s probably the only thing holding him back from strangling her father then and there. 

But this is her showdown. He couldn’t ruin this for her too. 

Her father shuts his eyes, breathing deeply. “I’m sure we can work something out, Darcy. Let’s go back to the hotel and discuss this as a family.” 

Something flashes in her eyes, “That’s not what I want anymore. You made sure of that tonight.”

“Will you please stop being so sensitive?” Ray spits out the word like it’s a curse. “This overdramatic need for attention has gone on long enough.”

She steps closer to her father, Bucky wincing when her bare feet come too close to the glass shards again. Her attention gets caught by something in the sea of bikers, a slow smile threatening the cut on her lip. “Dad, I’m just getting started.”

“Mr. Lewis?” Peggy Carter pushes through the crowd, two uniformed cops following behind her. Civilians scatter out of their wake, instantly finding better things to do in the presence of law enforcement. “I’m Agent Carter, and I need you to come with me.”

Ray puffs up, eyes wide with outrage. “On what grounds? What agency are you with?”

“We’ll discuss that at the station.” Peggy nods at her officers, and cuffs are slapped on Darcy’s father. “Please come quietly.” Peggy looks around, hands tucked in her pockets. “And I suggest the rest of you clear out before we take a closer look at you, too.”

“This is an outrage! I demand to know what the charges are!” Ray roars, fighting the officer’s grip on him, Bucky losing sight of him in the sea of people rushing out the gate. “If you have anything to do with this, Darcy…”

“With the charges already stacked against you, I wouldn’t court more by making threats, Mr. Lewis.” Peggy nods at her officers. “Take him away, boys.”

When the crowd clears, Carter’s cops are assisting Ray inside a police car, his own dented Ferrari still parked beside the busted gate.

Darcy’s gone. He doesn’t know how one half naked girl can just disappear surrounded by bikers and police, but she’s done it. 

Bucky’s heart drops to his stomach. She didn’t come to him. She just left.

Steve squeezes his shoulder before letting go. He can be his best friend again, because he knows not to say a word. 

The Avengers stand in their empty courtyard, silence and burnt pork filling the air as the police drive out. The only thing left of Darcy is the leather shoes and gems smoldering in the bonfire. 

Tony looks around, mouth gaping like the ‘mouth breather creeper’ Darcy had called him once. “What the hell just _happened_?”

Bucky has no idea. But he’s going to find out. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter 2**

**__**What the Hell Happened:

_(a.k.a─14 days ago…)_

“Do you think today is really a good time to ask him?” Darcy dropped the take-out on the picnic table, peering into the auto garage. She could just barely see Bucky’s legs sticking out from under a car, one of the prospects handing tools to him. “He looks busy.”

Jane jabbed at her cell phone screen, scowling at the crack that wasn’t letting her input numbers correctly. “He looks busy all the time. _You’re_ the one who said today was the day you absolutely had to ask him. Isn’t that why I’m peer pressuring you right now?”

Not that Jane was doing a good job if Darcy was still standing here outside in the Avengers Motorcycle Club courtyard, and not inside buttering Bucky up. “You’re really sucking at it.”

Jane tossed her phone on the table, probably adding another crack. “I _do not_ suck at peer pressure.”

Darcy gestured to herself in the courtyard, far away from Bucky. “And yet…”

Jane growled in a way that Thor probably liked, but made Darcy think of a grumpy chihuahua. “I don’t understand why you’ve been obsessing over this for weeks. He’s a nice guy, he probably won’t say no.”

It was that ‘probably’ Darcy was worried about. “Look, you’ve been dating Thor for two years now, right?”

A stupid grin spread across Jane’s face, “Yeah.”

“And we met his motorcycle club as soon as they got curious about the ‘lady love’ Thor wouldn’t shut up about-”

“And when they wanted to beat up the person who tased him.”

“Hey, _you_ ran him over.“ Jane always left that detail out. “My point being we’ve known them nearly as long.” Darcy took food containers out of the bag, arranging them on the table. “And in the two years we’ve known the AMC, when has Bucky ever been thrilled to see me?” 

Jane considered it for a moment. “Whenever your shirt is lowcut?” 

“That doesn’t count since then _everyone’s_ excited to see me.” She put the six pack of beer in the center of the table, food on either side. “He just barely tolerates me. Two years, and I’m still on the ‘annoying acquaintance’ tier of friendship.”

Jane frowned, “There’s a tier?”

“Oh my god Jane, watch Mindy once in awhile instead of making out with Thor.” Darcy leaned against the bench, still watching Bucky’s legs. His foot moved lazily as he worked, tapping in time to the rock station filling the garage. “There’s no guarantee that he’ll help me.” 

“Maybe he’ll go for the free party?” Jane tried. 

“It’s not like he’s fluttering around like a social butterfly. When does he do anything outside of the club’s orbit?”

Jane shrugged, “I don’t know, I don’t keep notes on Bucky Barnes’ day planner.” 

Darcy chewed her lip. Not. Saying. A. Word. 

Jane stole a pita chip, “So why are you so set on him? You can just borrow Thor if you need someone so badly.” She looked her over, head tilted to the side. “If you think it would be more effective, I could pretend to be your lesbian lover.”

“Awww, Jane.” Darcy pressed her hand to her heart, “That’s so sweet.”

Jane nodded in acknowledgement, looking modest. “You make a good point though, he probably won’t help you if you’re not willing to give him all the details. According to you, he’s a hermit. And he doesn’t like you unless you have cleavage.” Her eyes dropped to Darcy’s chest, covered by light knitwear. “Which you don’t, so poor planning on your part. Peer pressuring you towards Bucky of all members seems like a bad plan.”

Darcy picked at a pita chip, silent.

Dawning awareness bloomed on Jane’s face. “Oh my god. You’re crushing on him!”

“Ding-ding to the brilliant astrophysicist.” Darcy mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Oooo, you’re crushing on him _hard.”_ Jane was way too gleeful about this. Some friend. “No wonder you’re so nervous! Especially since he barely tolerates you.” 

“Hey! What happened to him being a nice guy and probably willing to help me?”

“It would be a sure thing if you were willing to tell him about Mike. Especially since he’s an Avenger and they’ve sworn to protect the vulnerable, and the sad, and the weak, and the pathetic, and the lame─”

“Ok, I get it”

“─and all that. But since you’re not willing to give him that crucial detail...”

“I’ll tell him about Mike. Eventually.” 

Jane rolled her eyes, “Sure you will. Anyway, now you _have_ to ask Bucky today, because I’ll blackmail you with this if you don’t. Go, right now, unless you want me to tell him how much you like him, and how cute you think he is, and how much you want to have his little biker babies…”

“Ok, ok! I’m going.” Darcy pushed away from the picnic bench. “Just keep that to yourself, alright? 

“Get him to agree, and it never passes my lips.” Jane swore, “And work overtime with me tonight, I need you to carry equipment for me.”

It wasn’t even for anything cool, but worth it if it kept Darcy’s secret to herself. “Fine, see you at midnight.”

“And you said I was bad at peer pressure.” Jane said, smug.

Darcy wandered into the garage, Bucky still under the same car. She nodded at some of the prospects working, but it looked like the rest of the club was off doing other things because Bucky was the only member in the shop. Clint’s dog Lucky wasn’t even running around with one of his shoes. 

She leaned against the car, staring down at his stained jeans and scuffed up boots. A rag was attached to his belt, tools close to his hip. At her look, the prospect helping him quickly found something else to do.

She took a breath, ruthlessly forcing down the fluttering in her stomach. 

“Hey Bucky?”

Bucky scooted further under the car he was working on, like that would stop her. Something clanked, Bucky dropping a part on the concrete floor. Still ignoring her. 

“Buckster?”

…

“Buckaroo?”

…

“Bucky-Bear?”

…

Still nothing, and that one usually worked. Darcy would have to pull out the big guns.

“Jimmy-Jim Jim?”

Bucky groaned, and came sliding out from under the car, white shirt stained with grease and hair pulled back with a red bandana. His hand gripped the bottom of the car, like he was prepared to drag himself back under the carriage on his little scooter the second she annoyed him again. “ _What?”_

For some reason, the angry grease monkey-bear look was working for her today. She’d have to interrupt him at work more often. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” 

He rubbed his free hand across his forehead, wiping away sweat but leaving streaks of oil. It was so unfair that even dirty, and stubble-y, and scowly, he was still beautiful “I’m busy, Lewis.”

“C’mon, it’s lunchtime, and I brought your favorite.” Darcy poked his thigh with her foot, wiggling her eyebrows. “Greasy food-truck gyros.”

He rolled his eyes, “That’s your favorite.” 

“Did I say your favorite _food?_ I meant your favorite kind of meal: free.” Darcy nudged his toolbox away from him, “Just give me five minutes of your time. Maybe half an hour. An hour, tops.” 

Sighing, he sat up, rolling his scooter out of the way. “And it’s free food?”

Darcy nodded, “It even comes with beer!” And a few strings.

He climbed to his feet. “I’m going to regret this,” he very accurately guessed, but she wasn’t going to psych him out before she could even give him her proposition. 

“Regret spending time with me?” Darcy pressed her hand to her chest, mocked-hurt to cover up the slight pang at the thought. 

“Regret listening about whatever you want,” Bucky corrected, ripping his bandana off his head and running it down his neck. 

Darcy tried not to visibly pant. 

“I’ll wash my hands, meet you in the courtyard?” He rubbed his back under his shirt, turning away before he could catch Darcy staring at the stripe of skin above his waistband inked with a dark design. Anyone else, she’d have five smart-ass comments about tramp stamps, but Bucky? The only thing in her mind was wondering how far up it went.

“Sounds good.” Especially since it meant she could take one last breath before blurting her favor out all over him. She wasn’t lame enough to plan what she wanted to say, but she at least wanted to sound coherent. 

She’d already known Bucky would want to eat out in the courtyard, so score one to her for having lunch spread out and waiting for him. Jane had kindly left, probably crunching numbers in the office Thor set up for Jane to encourage her around more often. Darcy grabbed hummus and pita too because Bucky had no bottom to his stomach, and his favorite beer was slowly warming under the hot summer sun. 

...she was probably stalking Tony and Thor’s instagram too often. But she wouldn’t need to creep on them if Bucky had _any_ social media for her to study. 

Bucky came out from the garage, his hands, arms and face clean. He’d even changed into a fresh shirt for her, but his hair was still hopelessly tangled around his face. He dropped down on the bench, snagging a beer and one of the food containers. “So what are you trying to bribe me for, Lewis?”

Better to get right into it then. But… “Hello to you too, Bucky. So nice to see you. I’m more then happy to give you lunch. My life is swell, how’s yours?”

He tipped his beer back, chugging a third of the bottle. Like he needed the liquid courage to deal with her. Jerk. “I’m behind three cars in the shop, I’m tired from chasing after a Hydra parolee who skipped his court date last night, and I’m pissed off I didn’t catch him. So that’s another late night tonight if I want to cash in on my warrant. And that’s if Steve and the others don’t catch him first, which I’ll never hear the end of. So mind just telling me what this is about?”

Well, when he put it that way, she guessed she’d want to get to the point too. “Fine. You’re right, I do want something. But consider it less a favor and more a solution for us both.”

He lifted a brow, “I’m listening.” 

Darcy took her last deep breath, and dove right into it. “My father is getting married next week and I need a date.” 

She held up a hand before he could interrupt, “ _Not_ just any date.” She gnawed on her lip, not sure how to explain. “It’s going to be a big deal. He and my future stepmom have been dating for ten years, so they’re going all out. All of his high society friends are invited, they’ve rented a mansion, and it’s going to be this ridiculous, week-long celebration before the ceremony, and some giant party after. So my date needs to be three things-”she started counting off on her fingers. “Someone who will make me look good─”

Bucky snorted, “A mechanic biker?” 

“─a war hero who continues to give back to the community, a successful entrepreneur, and crazy hot.” Darcy corrected, “You could be a bum with a face like that, and all the wives will still be plotting ways to poison me so they can hire you as their pool boy.” 

He rubbed his chin, “It is a pretty swell face.” 

No comment there since cocky was unfortunately a good look on him too. “I need someone I can stand for a whole week of festivities─” 

“We don’t know each other _that_ well.”

Not from lack of trying on her part, Jesus Christ. He was the one who had to be all moody and hot and intriguing and stand-offish when she knew he could be charming. He just saved all that personality for the attractive auto-shop customers, and none for Darcy. 

So yeah, maybe she was using this as an excuse to try to move past that. Be friends with the guy. Was that so bad?

Aside from wanting to be more than friends. But she could take a hint. After two years of low-key avoiding and ignoring her, that wasn’t going to happen. She could live the dream anyway. 

“We’ll bond.” That seemed easier then explaining her hopeless crush. 

He took a giant bite of his gyro, “And the third thing?”

She traced the grains in the wood with the tip of her finger, avoiding his eyes. This was the tricky part. “I need a bit of a...buffer from my family.”

He chewed, waving his hand for her to continue. 

“There’s been some tension in the past, and I would feel more confident if someone had my back.” She shrugged, “You were the first person to come to mind.”

And the sad thing was, she wasn’t trying to flatter him. Even with Jane, Thor, Tony, Steve, Clint, Natasha, Maria, and Sam in her corner, she still wanted the guy who acted like she had cooties, and it was catching. 

He studied her for a moment, “There’s something you’re not telling me, Lewis.”

And she was not touching that yet, “You’re right, I haven’t told you what I want to exchange.” She nodded towards his steel arm, “Thor was saying something about the VA being slow to cover some of your medical bills?”

Bucky scowled, “Thor has a big mouth.”

She couldn’t argue with that. “Your prosthetic needs some work, right?”

He slowly flexed his metal fingers, “There’s only so much Tony can do, not that he likes to admit that.”

She took a sip from her beer, giving him a second to glare at the steel panels that even she noticed seemed to be whirling slower. “What’s taking them so long to look at it?”

“Hell if I know. Some kind of bureaucratic paperwork red tape bullshit.” He looked up at her, instantly suspicious. “What are you thinking?”

“If you agree to be my date for my father’s wedding, aside from taking care of all the costs; your clothes, your room, your food and whatever, I’ll also take care of fixing your arm too.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Even you don’t have that much money.”

She could practically hear the mocking ‘poor little rich girl’ subtext. “I have a trust from my grandmother, and she was probably richer than my father. I can start off with $50,000, and you just let me know if you need more.”

His jaw clenched, “That’s pretty expensive. Escorts have to be cheaper than that. What else are you paying for?”

Darcy nearly threw a gyro at him, “I am _not_ trying to turn you into a prostitute, you asshole. Like I said, we can help each other out. I am not trying to sleep with you.”

...well, not for money anyway. 

She pushed her food away, suddenly not hungry. “Look. You want my main motivation? My future stepbrother is a jerk, and I would like to ignore all my feminist tendencies and have a protective, muscle bound, lethally hot boyfriend to help me deal with him. And since I don’t have that, I’m willing to pay to pretend for a week.”

Bucky went still, “Why’s he a jerk?”

Oh no, she already said more than she wanted to. “That’s not the point. Are you interested or not?”

She dropped her hands in her lap so he couldn’t see that she was clutching her fingers. She was nervous that he would say no, and then what? She really didn’t want to ‘borrow’ Thor; the other Avengers were taken or crushing on other people, and Tony was too obnoxious to stand for a whole week. Plus, no matter how far he tried to bury his head, he was still too well known in that world. 

Bucky was her answer. And not just because of her crush.

Because she couldn’t go by herself. She was too scared about what might happen. 

He sighed, “When is this thing?”

“It’s next week, but we’ll need about a week to prepare.” 

“A week?”

Darcy nodded, “There’s a lot to get ready. Your clothes, your hair, our fake relationship, lessons about forks-”

He held his hand up, looking pained. “I am definitely going to regret this.”

Darcy bounced in her seat, grin stretched so wide it was hurting her cheeks. “So you’ll do it?!?!”

“Yes Lewis, I will be your date.”

“THANK YOU!” She lunged across the table, nearly smothering him in her cleavage. She figured he deserved it. “Thank you thank you thank you!”

He patted her a little too hard on the back, the awkward weirdo. “Yeah, sure.”

She rolled her eyes, quickly squeezing his biceps before she pulled away, “You’re going to have to summon that charm if this is going to work.”

He smiled a little bit, and for some reason that made her shiver more than if he had out-right grinned. “No problem, dollface.”

She gave him a thumbs up, “Better!” But room for improvement. Maybe lose the ‘face’. She dug her phone out of her pocket, tossing it to him, “Give me your number and I’ll text you. I’m working with Jane tonight, so we probably won’t get started until tomorrow afternoon.”

He tapped across the screen, lips puckered in too much concentration. “I don’t get off work until five.”

“Ugh, what’s the point of being a biker if you have a schedule?” 

“And that’s if we don’t get a call out.” He reminded, handing her the phone back. 

“I’ll let Steve know you won’t be available for avenging tomorrow.” She shrugged at his look, “What? He likes me, he’ll totally take you off the rooster. There’s plenty of other people in your biker version of the A-Team.”

He looked pained, “And I’ve started regretting this already.”

She got up from the table, grabbing her own uneaten lunch. It was probably better not to give him any more reasons to change his mind. “I’m going to head out, but don’t worry about a thing! I bet you’ll even end up having a great time, Bucklinguine.” 

He shuddered, chugging back his beer. 

“Fair enough, I’ll work on the pet names.” She thought for a moment, “Buck-a-boo?”

The glare spoke volumes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cut refers to the leather vests bikers often wear. (Example: If you watch SOA like you should, they're the black, decorated vests Jax and the rest of the club wears.)

**Chapter 3:**

13 Days Before...

 

Bucky turned his head, scowling. “Would it have been that hard to text that?”

Darcy rolled her eyes, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “My way’s more fun. Now c’mon, daylight’s wasting.”

“We’re in a mall with no windows. What does daylight matter?”

“You are the worst. Let’s go,” Darcy grabbed Bucky’s sleeve, pulling him along behind her. He’d kindly changed after work, so there was a leather jacket for her to cling to, over a white shirt and plain black jeans. He’d even left his cut off. “Let’s make a deal: if you complain about only _two_ aspects of the clothes I pick for you to try on, I will buy you Johnny Rockets. But more than two complaints gets you _nothing.”_

“No clothes?” Bucky asked hopefully.

“No ice cream treats.” Darcy corrected. “JR makes the best milkshakes.”

“Is it really necessary for me to be here?” Bucky dug his heels in a bit outside Macy’s, making Darcy tug harder. “I could have just told you my sizes.”

“Yes. I need to see how the clothes fit, how they look, and we need to bond.”

“And we’re going to bond by clothes shopping?” Bucky sounded doubtful.

“Oh ye of little faith.” Darcy shook her head, tugging harder. His feet stayed firmly planted.

She let him go, anchoring her hands on her hips. “I could count this as one of your infractions towards milkshakes.”

“Look Lewis. You might have ‘faith’ that we’ll be best pals at the end of this little shopping trip, but I think-” he trailed off, his attention caught by something over her shoulder.

She frowned, “What?” She glanced over, dreading that his gaze had been snagged by a pretty blonde.

Four men in motorcycle jackets roamed up the mall coordinator, smirking at each other. 1% patches decorated the leather, a red skull and tentacle design taking up the sides.

“-I think you’re absolutely right and I don’t understand why we’re standing around waiting when we could be bonding over ugly and expensive clothing.” Bucky grabbed her wrist, pulling _her_ now into the store.

Expensive? Fine, but -“Ugly!?” Oh, just for that...

She dragged him along to the preppy-sailor section, knowing her father couldn’t resist a man in a collared polo shirt with a sweater wrapped around his neck. Ha. She flipped through the racks, trying to be casual. “Do you usually avoid Hydra guys?”

He shrugged, taking an ugly teal and neon checkered shirt out of her hands. “With you around? I’ll try my best to. I’m not putting a civilian in danger, especially without backup.”

Darcy kept her head down, knowing disappointment was stamped all over her face. She didn’t want to be just a civilian to him.

“Besides, none of those guys had warrants out for them. Yet.”

Andddddd subject change. “You barely answered any of my texts.”

“I was working. And I barely understood what any of them meant,” He frowned at a pink and blue stripped shirt, edging away like it might spring onto his chest and smother him. “Some of them looked like you head-butted your screen.”

Darcy peered at him, “Are you one of those fake millennials born in the early 80s? Did all your phones come attached to the wall?”

He absently scanned the racks, picking at a lime green collar gingerly. “I was born in 1989, smartass. I haven’t had time to fuss with all-” he waved a hand in the air, ‘-that.”

Darcy nodded solemnly. “Too busy staring at yourself in reflections?” She knew she wouldn’t be able to get anything done with that face.

His fingers twitched on a hanger, squeezing the plastic. “No. I was busy being shot at.”

Oops. Bad/insensitive of her. “Sorry. I’ll be serious.” Darcy loaded her arm with potential khakis and chinos, “How old were you when you enlisted in the army?”

“Eighteen. And I was there until my arm got blown off at twenty-three.” He made a face at the pants, “Really?”

“Maybe.” Some of them might be a little short, but that’s why she was insisting on this. “We only need one outfit that’s boat-appropriate.”

“Boat?”

Darcy shrugged, “Yacht really. Day three is the cruise luncheon.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky muttered.

“I warned you this was going to be ridiculously elaborate and dramatic.” She studied him for a moment. “Maybe you’re right. We should be going more for JFK-preppy then Chuck Bass preppy. You can’t handle that much color or pattern.”

“Lewis, I have no idea what you’re talking about half the time.”

“You’ll learn.” Darcy smashed all the hangers back on the rack. “I’ll try not to put you in anything too painful the rest of the week, but my hands are tied over boat-wear. You can just use your dress uniform for the wedding, and save yourself from a tuxedo.”

“Small mercies.” He plucked a blue sweater off a display. “This ok?”

She pushed it against his chest, enjoying the way the color made his eyes pop. “This could work.” But maybe in a slightly smaller size. “You might be ok at this.”

“I do dress myself normally.” He poked through a rack of white chinos, laying one over his arm.

“I only ever see you in gross clothes or club clothes.”

“You only ever see me at work or the club,” Bucky pointed out.

Darcy considered that. “...fair point. Which reminds me-” She dug into her pocket, pulled out two folded pieces of paper. “Here.”

Bucky took it carefully between the tips of two fingers. “What’s this?”

“Cheat sheet of ourselves. Jane helped me write it last night in between bouts of science. Mine’s already done for you.”

He pulled it open, silently scanning it over.

“This way we can study all the basic info we should know as a couple. Quiz on Friday.”

“This is how you wanted to bond?” Was it her ears, or did Bucky actually sound a little annoyed/hurt?

Her heart soared, “No no no, this is just the boring stuff.” She ran a fingertip down the list, “See, birthday, parents, colleges, rah rah. This way we don’t waste time talking about basics when we could be discussing the state of humanity in _The Walking Dead.”_

His face stayed blank.

“Oh my God Barnes, what do you do with yourself?!?” She pushed the list towards him, “So there’s mine, fill out yours, and we can focus on the important stuff. Like getting you caught up on good TV.”

“I don’t have a TV.”

Darcy stopped dead. Maybe she needed to rethink her crush on him. “I’ve made a lot of cracks about you secretly being an old man. Was I on to something?”

He went tense. “I read.” Like he was admitting to kicking puppies or voting Trump.

Darcy needed to cling to a rack, her knees going weak. “You read?”

Another thing to go on her list of Surprisingly Attractive Things About Bucky Barnes, if she was lame enough to make lists. But there was just something about the thought of watching him snuggled in on a couch, a worn paperback in his hand with that little pucker of concentration between his eyebrows and his teeth nibbling his lip while he focused on the text...

Maybe she could bribe Natasha into sneaking a few pictures for her.

Bucky pointedly avoided her eyes, suddenly finding a shelf of bright pink sweaters fascinating. His fingers ran over tags, like he was legitimately looking for his size. “Mostly sci-fi. Mystery and Tolkien too, but I’m using this year to go through the classics.”

“That would be fun. I wish I had more time to read.” Damn graduate school and Jane’s weird working hours.

“You’d probably have plenty of time if you didn’t waste so much of it choosing emojis…”

She snatched a pink sweater off the shelf and pushed it to his chest. “Just for that, you get to try one of these on.”

He rolled his eyes, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“That’s enough cruise-wear, let’s worry about the normal luncheons next. Because we’ve got like three more of those after the cruise.” Darcy scanned the store, hoping something would pop out at her. “So what have you been doing the last three years if you’re not catching up on everything you missed before you were discharged?”

“The surgeries and the rehab for my prosthetic took over a year, and then I got busy with work and the club. I’d rather read or go riding with Steve.”

Darcy shook her head sadly, “You have no idea what you’re missing.”

“Cats, mostly.” He shrugged at her look, “I do try to listen when you talk.”

She spun around, trying to hide the blush she could feel bloom in her cheeks. Jesus Christ, she had it pathetically bad. “That’s not a bad start. Let’s pick out dress shirts now. I’m thinking black.”

“I do have dress shirts, you know. They’re not even stained,” Bucky said to her back.

Darcy waved a hand, “Just let me get you new stuff. Dad only respects labels and he’ll make insufferable comments, then you’ll have to keep me from trying to scoop my eardrums out with a spoon, and this will be a lot easier and cleaner in the long run.”

“Your dad sounds…” Bucky trailed off, clearly not sure what adjective to use.

“Difficult,” Darcy finished for him. “Trust me, you’re earning every penny and perk I’m giving you. Don’t let it be a weird thing.”

She held a black collared shirt up against his chest, “Definitely black. You can slick your hair back once you cut your hobo chic look, and everyone will want to eat you up instead of the food.”

His hand flew to his hair, “You were serious about a hair cut?”

“Oh yeah,” She tugged on a lock of his shoulder length hair. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s hot, but it’s not hot in a purposeful way. More like you’re too lazy to go get a haircut. Or you’re a secret hippy, which all these old white dudes will _hate._ ”

“Maybe I’m too busy to get it cut,” he mumbled.

“Then it’s a good thing I blocked out an hour today for your hair appointment. Don’t worry, my stylist is great. Here-” She dragged his hand to her own hair, forcing him to pat her head. “See? Soft.”

He twisted his wrist free from her grip, “Wrong hand, Lewis.” He brought his flesh one up to the ends of her hair, turning his awkward tapping into a gentle stroke. “It’s nice,” his voice was weirdly gruff.

She cleared her throat, stepping back. “Your hair will be in great hands. But let’s focus on clothes for now.”

She piled blue and gray shirts over the black, deciding to stick with darker colors for him. He seemed to agree, picking out a cobalt shade that did amazing things for his eyes.

“We’ll skip ties since you’re cool enough to get away with a few buttons undone, and maybe a jacket…” Henley’s caught her eye. Clint wore something similar, and she’d always liked the way it clung to his biceps. “And something casual for day trips.”

“I’m afraid to ask for an itinerary.”

Darcy held a hand up, “I told you this was going to be insane, but I feel like you keep underestimating that.”

“What does your father do, anyway?”

She studied the red and green henley's, stuck on a shade. “It’s on my factsheet.”

“Humor me.”

“He owns a big financial firm. I’d give you the boring details, but it always gives me a headache.” She snatched up the green one. It reminded her of a lush forest, and would look vivid against his skin.

“So you’re not interested in it?”

“I push paper around a few times a week in some of the different departments. But it’s nothing I want to do forever.” She shoved her pile into Bucky’s arms, “This is a good start. Let’s find a dressing room.”

“Why not?” Bucky pressed, shuffling the clothes so they laid over his forearm neatly.

“I don’t want to earn money for the sake of earning money.” She turned away before she could see the look on his face, “I know, poor little rich girl complaining about her lot.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

He didn’t have to. “I’m grateful for what I’ve had, but finance isn’t what gets me up in the morning.”

“And poli sci does? Thor’s mentioned it,” he added at her backward glance.

“For now. But I love working with Jane too, so who knows where I’ll end up.”

“And the rest of your family?”

It was like he didn’t want to read her sheet. “Kelly’s into PR for the company. Mike’s into trades, and is probably being groomed for CEO since I have no interest.”

“The jerk?” Bucky confirmed.

“The jerk.”

Bucky was silent for a moment, clearly waiting for something. “So does this ‘bonding’ you want mean you’re going to explain _why_ he’s a jerk?”

Darcy’s shoulders tensed. “Don’t worry about him. With you there, there won’t be a problem.”

“How was he a problem in the past?”

Darcy growled low in her throat, spinning around on her heel to look back at him. “Look, I know with you as a soldier and an Avenger, you’re probably very familiar with the worse side of human nature, but this isn’t as bad as you’re probably imagining.”

Bucky crossed his arms over the clothing he held, “You have no idea what I’m imagining.”

“You’re probably comparing them to the wife beater, or the abusive father, or the neglectful stepmother, or any of the other awful human beings the Avengers deal with. This isn’t that.”

“Then you can tell me what it is.”

She was going to grit her teeth down to dust if he didn’t stop. “Hey look, dressing rooms!”

He sighed as she grabbed his sleeve, pulling him forward, “You’re telling me eventually.”

“Eventually being the key word there.” Eventually, like, after the wedding, and in between seducing him with her incredible charm and wit.

He stopped walking, leaving her tugging at an immovable force. “Listen Lewis, I know we don’t know each other well, _yet_ ,” he added at her look, “But that doesn’t mean I want a ‘jerk’ bothering you either. I want to know whatever’s he’s done to make you uncomfortable, even if you think it’s stupid.”

Damn it, she shouldn’t have said anything at all about her future stepbrother. “It’s not that big a deal. This is for my peace of mind, and so Kelly doesn’t nag about my love life. It was either you, or one of her goons in her department. For that alone, I would have paid you double.”

She tugged on his wrist, “So, dressing room?”

He didn’t even budge.

Darcy dropped his arm, hands on her hips, “Alright, I’ll open more later, ok? Once we know each other better. You will know my secrets before the wedding.”

He considered it for a moment. “That’s fair.”

“Good, now fashion show time!” Plaid shirts caught her eye, “Actually, you pick out a stall, I want to grab one more thing.” She wasn’t sure the shirt was actually appropriate for anything, but since it was Easter-colored in annoying pastels, she wanted the laugh.

He rolled his eyes but walked off without comment, while she grabbed the worst top of the bunch, in a smaller size then Bucky had requested. Hopefully with a little encouragement, he would start wearing his shirts as tightly as Steve did.

Bucky had only made it a few steps towards the dressing room, a sales associate chatting him up, right there in the middle of the aisle. She lightly brushed his arm, as she took his pile of clothing, smiling brightly.

And the asshole smiled back, a hell of a lot friendlier with her then he’d been with Darcy all day.

Well, no time like the present to practice being his girlfriend.

She clamped her arm around his waist, leaning into him, “Bucky-babe! Are you ready to try everything on?”

The woman’s grin abruptly vanished, “Well, let me just put these in a dressing room for you two.”

Darcy batted her eyes sweetly, “Thank you so much.”

The sales associate turned around, leaving Bucky scowling down at her. “C’mon Lewis, she’s cute.”

Blonde, and tiny, and as delicate looking as a fairy, _of course_ Bucky would save all his charm for her. She wanted to skip through a forest herself with the girl after stomping hard on Bucky’s foot. “But you’re fake dating me, Barnes. Have some respect for your non-existent relationship.”

He sighed, “It’s not like that.”

“Don’t care. We only have six and a half days left to look like a loving, devoted couple. You’re going to have to get used to not smiling at cute blondes. Do as ABBA says and save all your love for me.”

His expression didn’t change.

“Come on! I even picked an older reference this time. It should have been perfect for you, grandpa.” She shook her head, “I get Steve not caring, but how has Tony not taken care of this?”

His lip curled, “How much time do you think I willingly spend with Tony?”

“Ok, good point. Just stop acting like I’m covered in flesh eating bacteria that’ll jump on your skin if you so much as smile at me, ok?”

He shrugged, but looked a little guilty.

“Great. Fashion show for real now!”


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter 4:**

10 Days Before-

“I need you here when I yell at Bucky.” Darcy hid Jane’s notebook behind her, backing up quickly, “Just babysit me to make sure I’m not mean, and you can have your work back.”

“Darcy-” Jane lunged, arms outreached. Darcy spun on her toes, narrowly avoiding Jane’s grip, “I might have had a breakthrough and I _need_ my notes to check something.”

“You need to kick me if my voice gets louder then a five. And a sandwich.”

Jane growled, “I don’t have time to play keep-away with you, or to help you fix however you messed up with Bucky, or a _goddamn sandwich_.”

“I didn’t ‘mess up’ with Bucky!” Darcy ignored the other two points, because Jane had been reading _Star Trek_ captions on Tumblr before her ‘breakthrough’ and of course she needed a sandwich, it was nearly six o’clock and she probably hadn’t eaten since breakfast with Thor. “He’s the one who messed up!”

“I am pointedly not asking.” Jane made grabby hands at Darcy. “I am pointedly _demanding_ my notebook back.”

“I couldn’t help having to leave early on Monday, but I told him to text me pictures of the rest of the clothes and his haircut so I could approve.” Darcy sidestepped Jane, hugging the notebook to her chest. “You know how many pictures I got? Zero. I’m terrified he got the flamingo pink sweater just to screw with me.” 

“This is still not a problem I care about.” Jane just barely brushed the cover before Darcy whirled away, hunching over the book.

“It’s a huge problem! I need photos I can start posting on instagram to make this look real, and I was planning on using the picture of him in that ugly plaid shirt as my cover image for him. Now I’ll only have some boring hot picture to use.”

“You’ve lost me. And _I still don’t care.”_ Jane plastered herself to Darcy’s back, reaching around. 

“ _And then_ when the AMC decides to ride out to avenge the next day, does he text me? No! It was two days before I got a single word-’back’.” Darcy spun in a circle, Jane spinning with her. “One word! This fake relationship is not going to work if he’s a bad texter.”

“Fake being the key word there, unlike _my_ work.”

“And I’m really thrilled they beat on some asshole revenge porn site owner, so it’s not that I’m mad about Bucky riding out with the group, you know?” 

“No, I don’t know. I don’t want to understand this. Stop explaining.”

“I’m just mad he didn’t give me any warning. I never would have known if you hadn’t told me. And now we’ve lost two days of prep, and I feel bad for caring about that when he’s off doing important ass kicking. And I still don’t have any attractive pictures of him!”

“You’re right, you’re a bad person. And none of this seems worth getting mad over, or holding my work hostage.”

“Exactly, that’s why as my _sensible and reasonable_ friend, I need you here to make sure I don’t go overboard and scare him away.” She clung tighter to the book, huddled over it like a turtle. “Just wait five minutes before sciencing!” 

Jane’s feet left the ground to cling to Darcy’s back, nearly sending her to her knees. “ _I keep telling you that is not a verb!!!_ ”

“What the hell are you two doing?”

Jane and Darcy froze. They slowly turned their heads to look at the Avenger’s garage. 

The notebook fell from Darcy’s hands. Jane didn’t rush to snatch it up off the ground.

Bucky wore the black dress shirt she’d picked out for him, sleeves rolled to his elbows, matched with gray slacks. He left the top few unbuttoned, proving Darcy’s theory that he was cool enough not to need a tie. The shirt clung to his skin in a way Darcy could only dream about. He adopted the Steve Rogers method of sizing clothes. The tighter, the better, praise be.

But his hair. Chopped short, and combed away from his face. Somehow it made his cheekbones sharper, his eyes bluer. Before, he looked wild and careless, but now? 

Now he looked like he could take on the goddamn world. 

He glanced at his watch. A _real_ watch, not just the clock on his phone. “This is the time you wanted to leave, right?”

She blinked. That hair paired with those clothes was making it hard for her to catch her breath.

Clint snickered, breaking the spell. When did he get there? He took his phone out of his pocket, and angled it in front of her face. “That one’s going on the fridge. Darcy Lewis: Speechless.”

“Fuck off, Clint.” The words were automatic at this point. “Yeah, this is the right time.” 

Jane still clung to her back like a small, angry monkey, fingertips digging painfully into her collarbone. Darcy shook, trying to throw her off. 

Clint studied Jane’s feet and their distance from the concrete. “Do you need help getting down, Jane?”

Jane instantly jumped off, snatching up her notebook. “You’re not _that_ much taller then me.”

“Seven inches says different.”

Jane hugged her notebook to her chest, looking expectedly at Darcy. “Well?”

Darcy waved a hand, “Yeah, I’m good now.” 

Jane sniffed, sliding a pencil out of Thor’s plaid shirt pocket. “If anyone needs me, don’t come and find me,” before stalking off to her pseudo office, scribbling away on the cover. 

Clint waved his phone at them, “Now how about one of the two of you? 

“This isn’t prom, Clint.” Nevermind that she had just been bitching about having no photos of them. But if she was standing _next_ to Bucky, she wasn’t gawking at his hotness. 

“Coulda fooled me. Especially with you all cleaned up.”

Darcy’s dress wasn’t that fancy. Just a boring black lace sheath Kelly had bought her when she refused to let Darcy show up to a dinner in knitwear. She should have known her crocheted skirt would have been too cool for old people…

She played with her makeup and shoes though. Killer red heels and lips had yet to fail her. “Did you even go to a school dance?”

Clint rubbed his chin, “I saw _Pretty in Pink_ once.”

“Yeah, because I made you watch it. I have to take Bucky now before we lose our reservation.” 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Tony strolled out of the garage, wearing a dirty tank and a stained rag over his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot, like he was just getting off an engineering bender. “Where are you kids off too?”

“Dinner practice. And we’re going to be late if I stand here and snark with you.”

“You sure it’s just practice?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure Bucky’s eaten before so…”Darcy rolled her eyes, grabbing Bucky’s wrist. “Good _bye.”_

Clint clapped Bucky’s shoulder, “Well, good luck on your not-date. You’re gonna need it.”

“Order the lobster,” Tony encouraged. “Milk her for everything she’s worth.”

“And you better be nice to Bucky, Darcy. Maybe we better talk about your intentions before you leave.”

Tony nodded solemnly. “He’s a sensitive soul, our Bucky. You better not be planning on taking advantage.”

“Maybe we should come with you. To chaperone poor Bucky’s feelings.” 

“We’ll even do it for you for the low, low price of a kobe rib eye steak.” 

“Even if you’re my fake boyfriend, can I still ask you to really punch them for me?” Darcy asked, pulling Bucky away.

“...I’ll consider it.” 

Darcy beamed, her walk turning into a skip. “You’re just the sweetest, Bucko.”

“Never mind.” 

“I don’t take it back.” She reached up to poke his cheek, “I know your secret. You’re a cuddly bear underneath the scruffy scowl.” 

“You got me.” He brushed her hand away, “So where you taking me, Lewis?”

“Just a comfortable, mid-level rich restaurant. Nothing too crazy. It’ll be more low-key then the engagement dinner.” 

“And how low is that key?”

“Three courses instead of five. Conversations with just me, and not the whole family. Less spoons.”

“How many spoons makes something fancy?”

Darcy considered it, “Probably at least three?”

“Any other rules?” 

“No politics, no matter how painful it is to keep your mouth shut. Flirt with old women, pull out my chair and offer me your elbow. Act like you’re asking me to the sock hop.The more 50s you are, the more everyone will seethe with jealousy and plot my death.”

“I do know how to take a woman out.” He paused at the passenger seat of the white cadillac she borrowed from father for the occasion. “So if you’re taking me out tonight, do I get my door opened and my chair pulled?”

“Har har. Get in the damn car.”

“Just letting you know I respect myself. Don’t get any ideas about what else you’re buying besides dinner.”

“You’re a regular gentleman. Just for that I’m playing Justin Bieber on the drive down.”

Bucky dove for her ipod, tucking it between his legs. Like she wasn’t afraid to reach down there. “And I respect both of us too much to let you do that.”

“See? Sweet, considerate, mushy-bear.” 

He tossed the ipod back at her, “Forget it. Ruin your ear drums for all I care.”

Darcy left her phone in the cup holder. It had been a dirty lie anyway. “Nope. We need to chat since we lost two days.”

Bucky picked her ipod back up, “Actually, his lyrics are pretty insightful-”

“Oh come on. You do not know a Bieber song.”

Bucky glared down at the screen, “Sam went through a phase.”

She snatched her phone back at a red light, “I don’t want to know.”

“You really don’t.”

“New rule: no Justin Bieber songs.” Darcy sneaked a peek at him, “Is there anything you want to add to that list?”

“Music-wise?”

“Anything-wise. You’re being nice enough to help me out, and I want to be careful not to take too much advantage of you.”

“I’m not being that nice. You’re paying me.” Bucky reminded, hands fisting in his lap.

He would bring that up. “Well, would you take that money if I just gave it to you?”

“Probably not,” he admitted.

“And would you have let Tony even offer? Or have the club pitch in?”

“The club’s money needs to be used for club business. And Tony’s not ready to go back to his family yet.”

Darcy shrugged, “So yeah, you needed to trade me for something. And you’re nice enough to let that something be my fake boyfriend, instead of...I don’t know, motorcycle lessons?”

“You are _not_ learning how to ride a bike,” 

He didn’t have to say that so quickly. “I don’t think I’d be that bad-”

“ _No_.”

If she thought about it more later, she might be offended by that. “See? This way we both get something we need, and you can stop feeling weird about it. Your pride or your masculinity, or your whatever is safe.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“I’m the one you came to _you. Gold digger_ isn’t playing through my head when I look at you.” Though he could get down with her in other ways…

“That’s not what I mean. Would you even be paying for a date if you didn’t have to deal with this jerk?” Bucky was ruthless with his bluntness. 

Darcy squirmed in her seat, “I mean, there’s going to be rich fuckboys crawling around too, so…” She knew he was glaring at her without even taking her eyes off the road. “I might have just asked you instead of phrasing it as a favor.” Might as well be as direct as him.

“What?”

How honest could she get without admitting her crush? “You’re a cool dude, Bucky Barnes. You’re a secret sci-fi nerd hot hermit-biker, and apparently I like that in a guy. If I can get you comfortable enough with me to stop scowling all the time, even better.”

“...I don’t scowl at you.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, “Bucky, I’ve seen you with other women. I’m the only one you call by their last name.”

“ _You_ call me ridiculous nicknames.”

“I like how annoyed you get. It’s like poking an angry octopus to watch the ink squirt out.”

She grinned at his shocked silence, “I wanna be your friend, Barnes. Just deal with it.”

Well, more then that. But she wasn’t spilling on her crush when she might finally be convincing him to warm up to her. 

“So, rules for you?” She pushed when the silence stretched on a little long. 

She could feel him looking at her for a moment, “If you cross a line, I’ll let you know about it.” 

Darcy grinned, “Now _that’s_ something I’d take advantage of.”

And at what should have been a perfect bonding moment before their practice date...the engine wheezed. 

“Huh. Is it supposed to sound like that?” Smoke seeped out from under the hood. “That’s new too.”

Bucky sighed. “Pull over.” 

Darcy hit her blinkers, driving over to the side. “At least we’re doing something you enjoy on our fake date?”

“Just pop the hood.” To his credit, he didn’t sound as annoyed as he was probably justified to. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” Darcy grabbed his arm before he could get out of the car. “You should take your shirt off.”

He stared at her. “...what?”

“You know. In case of oil splashes.” She scowled at his continued glare. “You’re _always_ covered in it at the auto shop!”

He tilted his head, “What is this, fanservice?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He pulled his arm out of her grasp, undoing his buttons quickly. He tossed it at her. “Here. Fold this for me” Sorry Gloria Steinem, but she was not going to complain about this particular domestic task. She smoothed her hands over the warm fabric while Bucky stalked to the front of the car. He wasn’t completely shirtless, the jerk, but his undershirt highlighted muscles she wasn’t aware existed outside of photoshop. 

She opened her door, sticking her head out. “Should I get out and be useful?”

“No.” He lifted the hood, disappearing from sight. “Just stay there.” 

Bucky couldn’t see her pout, so she played tetris on her phone instead. 

“I think you must have gotten some leaves stuck under your hood.” Bucky called out, cranning around the hood “You got lucky, they just burned without causing any damage to the engine. You know, you should really-”

Motorcycles rumbled, shooting down the road next to them. Red flashed on their backs as they flew by, six men following the one in the lead. 

Bucky tucked his face down, his body hidden again by her car. But it didn’t seem to matter since two of Hydra’s bikes pulled over anyway. 

His face popped up by her window, “Stay in the car. But do you happen to have a tire iron or anything heavy?”

Darcy glanced in the backseat. “I have an ice scraper?” 

He grimaced. “In the middle of August?”

“Do you want it or not?”

He rolled his eyes, but held his hand out. “I’ll make it work. Stay in the car. Text Steve.”

He gripped her wrist when she would have pulled away after handing him the plastic pole. “Stay. In. The. Car.”

“I won’t get out of the car.” She thought about batting her eyes, but that seemed too sarcastic. “Natasha has cured any desire of mine to become an action hero.” There was only so many times the woman could crush her head between her thighs before Darcy had to give up her Xena daydreams. 

Bucky didn’t look convinced, but she was saved from any further lecturing when the motorcycles engines cut off. 

He really should have looked dumb in his muscle shirt, dress pants, and plastic scraper striding off to meet two of his enemies. 

Darcy immediately snapped a picture and found Jane in her phone

They were far enough away that she couldn’t hear Bucky when he stopped in front of Hydra One and Hydra Two. She could only watch his shoulders bunch up, his fist curl in. 

He launched himself at H1, whacking the other across the head with the scraper. 

She was enjoying the show first.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter 5**

Nine and a half days before:

“This isn’t the garage.”

“Nope.”

“Or my apartment.”

“Right.”

“But this is a weird looking house in the middle of nowhere.”

“Can’t get anything past you, Bucky-Bear.”

“…is this because we had to cancel our fake date so I could take those guys to jail?”

“No.” Though that had been annoying. 

“Because I think I reacted pretty well to you tasing one of them.” Darcy could practically feel his glare, “Even though I told you to stay out of it.”

“Excuse you, you told me to stay _in_ the car. Not my fault you let them get so close to the window.”

“I should be annoyed you gave me a plastic rod when you kept the taser for yourself, though.”

“I forgot. And then I wanted to watch you MacGyver yourself out of it.” They could have had dinner _and_ a show if they hadn’t missed their reservations. 

“Is that why you waited ten minutes to call Steve?”

“Hey, I was just trying to keep it a fair fight.”

“So then I especially don’t deserve to be dragged off to a horror house to be murdered when I was beating up two men who wanted to jack your car and probably kill _you_.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, opening her car door. “I didn’t bring you here to kill you.”

“I noticed you didn’t rule out torture or dismemberment,” He called after her.

“You would deserve it!” She wasn’t sure how she going to get the biker grease and blood out of her trunk. “Just get out of the car.”

Bucky followed her as she dug through her purse for her keys, “Welcome to my humble abode.” She flung her arm out like Vanna White, tracing her fingertips down the rotting trim decorating the porch.

The plank swung off the roof, spinning down to the ground with a clatter. “Oops. I’ll fix that later.”

Bucky blinked, looking around. “You live _here?”_

“Don’t hate. It’s an investment property.” Darcy patted the side of the wall fondly. Inches from a strange green mold. “I just haven’t had a chance to invest any time into the outside yet. But the wirings new!”

Bucky took a few steps back, peering up at her house. She tried to see it through his eyes. A nearly condemned Victorian fighting a losing battle against ivy, with a leaky roof, peeling paint, rotting wood, and a giant hole in the porch. And that was just the front of the house.

He probably thought she was insane.

“That tower is amazing.” He leaned back, hands on his hips. “Is the circular window original, or did you add it in?”

A soft, warm glow spread through her chest, relief unknotting her stomach. “No, everything’s original to when it was built in the 20s. The turret is actually why I bought the house even after dad threatened to disown me.”

She bit her lip when Bucky jerked his head towards her. She hadn’t meant to say that. “What?” 

She shrugged, trying to play it off. She stared up at the stained glass, to avoid his eyes, the color especially dramatic with the light on inside against the dark night. “I called his bluff. I think he was just worried I’d ask him to help me fix it up.”

She didn’t need to look at him to know what he wanted to ask. “I had some money leftover from my mother’s estate. I used the rest to buy this.”

“She died when you were ten, right?”

Darcy beamed. He’d read her factsheet! “Gold star for you!” She shrugged at his look. “Sorry, too cheerful?” She couldn’t help the little thrill she got from any attention from him.

He tested the porch railing, frowning when it rocked. “But why did you buy this place?”

“Between Harry Potter and Rapunzel, I was obsessed with the idea of living in a tower.” She edged around the porch hole, sliding her key into her lock. “C’mon, I promise the inside is better.”

Bucky didn’t budge. “You have the money to build five towers on the moon if you wanted. Why this place?”

Darcy left her keys hanging, leaning back against the doorway to look at him. Moonlight shone through the trees, spilling glowing splashes of light against his face and silver arm. He was still studying her house, peering closer where her railing was coming loose from the wall. Not mocking like her father or shocked like Jane. Just curious.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Restoring an old home was one of my mother’s life goals. Dad could have built her whatever she wanted, but something about saving a place appealed to her. But first I was too little for her to focus on it, and then she got too sick.” She looked around her house, shrugging slightly. “She had a fondness for Victorians. I think she would have loved this place.”

Bucky looked up at her, hand still gripping the shaky railing. “Huh.”

Darcy frowned, “What?”

“That’s just not what I expected.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, pushing her door open. She pointedly was _not_ asking him what he expected. She probably didn’t want to know. “Well, keep assuming and I’ll have to start calling you Bucky-Ass instead. Now _come in.”_

Darcy stepped through her doorway without waiting for Bucky, kicking off her heels. Her feet ached, pizza needed to be microwaved for dinner, and there was a fuzzy gorilla footsie PJ set calling her name. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back.”

Because the inside _was_ very nice, despite how her curb appeal was horror-movie worthy. She’d found time to do the boring practical stuff like insulation and wiring, and fun stuff like renovating her living room. She tweaked the traditional idea of a Victorian living room.

Meaning it didn’t look like a Victorian living room at all. Her flat screen hung above the fireplace mantle, facing a giant couch the Victorians would never have swooned over no matter how overtaken by vapors they became. Books and weird trinkets crammed the space, in little order or pattern. She kept meaning to buy a rug to soften the wooden floors but hadn’t found one she liked yet. Her one faint nod towards tradition was the elaborate wallpaper she covered the room in, a rich blue she’d had Jane chart constellations over. She begged Steve to draw over Jane’s marks with gold paint, paying him in pizza, hugs, and loudly whispered compliments about him in Agent Carter’s earshot. 

It meant she was living on an air mattress in a barely livable bedroom for the time being, but the living room was perfect. She felt warm fuzzies every time she successfully avoided falling into the hole (again) and walked into it, and if Bucky didn’t feel the same…

He was sprawled out on her couch, fingers laced together over his stomach and eyes tracing over her stars. “Did Steve paint those?”

“Yeah.” Darcy snatched up her remote, dropping down next to Bucky. “He’ll paint another mural whenever I’m ready in exchange for praise aimed at Agent Carter.”

He snorted, “He needs to get his head out of his ass when it comes to her.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. “They’ll get there.” Either by themselves or through some kind of sneak attack by Natasha. 

“It’s nice.”

“...Steve and Carter’s ridiculous, self-imposed ‘forbidden’ love?”

“No, your place.” He waved a hand around, “I can see the potential.”

“High praise.”

“C’mon Lewis, you know it looks like the preferred hideout for a serial killer right now. But it’ll look good when you’re done with it.”

It wasn’t the gushing praise from Jane when she realized Darcy was serious about this and trying to make up for her earlier horror, and it seemed all the more genuine because of it. “Thanks, Bucky.”

He nodded. “Did you have someone over to look at that railing yet?”

“I think I should worry about the hole in the porch first.”

“Hmm,” he settled deeper into the couch. “How many times have you fallen in it?”

What a jerk for assuming. It was only twice. “Don’t worry about it. Just take a big step over it, and you’re perfectly safe and secure.” She pointed the remote at her tv. 

He glanced over at her, “Well, I’ll tell you whatever the hell you have on makes me feel a lot more secure about my virtue.”

Netflix loaded on her tv screen, Darcy stroking the fake fur running down her pajamas. “Shut up, this is the best I’ve ever looked. You know you love it.”

He reached out to tug up her gorilla head hoodie, covering her face. “There. That helps.”

She poked his side. Hard. “Asshole. You’re just mad I didn’t warn you about having a pajama party.”

He squirmed away from her, “Why _are_ we having a pyjama party?”

“Because you made us miss our practice date. So now this is the most important thing we’ll do to prep for next week.” She snuggled deeper into her pillow, flipping through options. “Binge-watch.”

He kicked his shoes off, settling his feet on the coffee table. “Watching TV is the most important?”

“Being alone in an enclosed space for a period of time while watching something that will give us strong opinions and feels and forced to share? Most important.” Darcy confirmed, “So I considered a lot of shows for us to start off with, but in the interest of time and the sudden knowledge of your classical reading goals, I present to you... _Sherlock!”_

Bucky didn’t seem all that excited. He would learn. “Sherlock Holmes will make us closer?”

“Yes.” She loaded up the first episode, curling her legs under her. “You’ll like it. He’s weird like you, and John’s put upon like me.” 

He rolled his eyes, “You’re the weird one.”

Darcy uncurled her leg to nudge him with her toe. “Oh you’ll see, Buck-a-boo. You’ll see.”

\----------------------------------------

_Eight days before..._

So, she didn’t think Bucky would insist on seeing _all night._

It was her fault for assuming he would only watch one or two before she’d take him back home. 

...and oh fuck, was she drooling on his metal arm?

His shoulder moved under her. “Are you awake yet? You’re still drooling on my prosthetic.” 

Darcy jerked awake, practically repelling herself away from him. She lost her balance, falling right over the side of her couch. 

His head popped up over the side. The asshole looked _way_ too pretty and chipper for being laid up on a couch all night. “Can we watch series 2 now?”

She blinked up at him, flat on the floor. “No we cannot watch _now,_ we have work.”

His frown bordered dangerously on a pout, “Let’s call in sick.”

“Steve would be so disappointed in you for saying that.” She sat up on her elbows, wondering what alternate universe she entered while she slept. 

She eyed his shoulders. She’d rested on them. She couldn’t believe she slept through sleeping on him. 

“His puppy eyes don’t work on me anymore,” Bucky dismissed. 

“Speak for yourself,” Darcy grumbled. He’d guilted her into volunteering for their fun ride charity event just by frowning.

“So. Series two?”

“You might get to call in sick, but I have to work.” She glanced at the time flashing on her DVD player. “And I’ve gotta get going or I’m going to be late. Can you ask Steve to pick you up?”

He didn’t budge from the couch, “Doesn’t the benefit of being the boss’s daughter mean you get to make your own schedule?” 

“Hey, that paper isn’t going to push itself.” She climbed to her feet, back aching. Her cheek felt uncomfortably tight, and she didn’t want to draw attention to the dried spit that was probably there. “I’ve got cereal in my kitchen if you’re hungry while I throw adult clothes on.”

“My fake girl would skip work for Sherlock and bacon.” Bucky complained, flopping on the couch. “You’re not taking our imaginary relationship seriously.” 

Darcy rolled her eyes, “Your fake girlfriend wouldn’t be paying you to do those things.”

He stiffened, emotion draining from his face, “Right.”

Damn it, she hadn’t meant it like that, “Bucky-”

He climbed off the couch without looking at her, drifting through the doorway.

Her stomach twisted. She’d finally been making progress with him! She stomped after him, glaring at his back while he opened random cabinets. “I’m sorry, that was just a bad joke. I’m sure your fake girlfriend would be happy to do those things with you.” 

He looked over his shoulder, “And yet-oh shit.” The cabinet door fell off in his hand, the broken hinge cracking apart. 

Darcy sighed, “Just put it in the corner with the others.” She frowned at his look, “It’s on my list of things to fix, alright?” If she was lame enough to have a list. If there was even enough paper in the world to _start_ a list. 

He was careful leaning it against her two other broken cabinet doors, tucking it against the drawer that didn’t fit right after water damage warped the track, “When did you say you had a handyman over to look at this place?” “I didn’t.” She’d been doing just fine with youtube and rentals from the library’s tool collection. She wasn’t hiring out for things she could fix herself. “I’ve got _everything_ under control, alright? Now forgive me for the bad joke, eat my cereal and enjoy the coziness of my kitchen while I get ready.” 

Bucky eyed her kitchen. “I guess you could call this charming in a desperate, wrecked sort of way.”

“It’s got potential, asshole.” Everything _mostly_ worked even if she didn’t quite trust the oven not to explode. It just needed some sprucing. And new cabinets and new countertops and new floor tiles and a new dishwasher that hadn’t had a family of chipmunks nesting inside. That was all.

“I’ll forgive you as soon as we start series two.” 

“Then prepare to be mad the rest of the day.” She opened one of the cabinets she’d had time to fix, taking out a bowl. “I’m done with my life at seven?”

Bucky grunted, “Fine. But we’re finishing it tonight!”

He might not be as eager once he saw the last episode. “You still need to give me your list! We’re supposed to quiz tomorrow.”

“Quiz on Saturday, Series 3 on Friday,” Bucky decided for them. “Didn’t you need to get ready?”

“What’s that Frankenstein line? ‘I’ve created a monster?’” Darcy grumbled, turning away. 

“That’s definitely wrong, but your face looks pretty monstrous. Better fit a shower in too.”

Darcy scrubbed at her cheek, dried spit flaking as she rushed towards the bathroom. “Dick!” Why the hell did she have a crush on that idiot? 

His laughter followed her down the hall, lighter then she’d heard yet. So great, definitely making progress. She just didn’t think she’d want to hit him the closer she got to him...


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. This could have been posted yesterday, but I spent two hours fighting with every text generator on the internet. I'm not 100% thrilled with screenshotting, then cropping Darcy's convo, but I finally gave up before I could give into the temptation to throw my laptop at the wall after another two hours tonight.
> 
> 2\. Ianthe has absolutely made my life better with Grammarly. Yay!
> 
> 3\. At some point in my life, I will actually reply to comments. (It's what I do on ff.net, but I was confused about the etiquette for A03. Sorry for any rudeness in lateness.)
> 
> 4\. I did not come up with the memes Darcy sends to Bucky.

**Chapter 6**

** Eight Days Before: **

The nice thing about being a paper pusher at Lewis Financial was the terrible basement the cubicle farms were hidden in. It was cramped, inconveniently located, and smelled strangely of tuna fish. So no supervisor wanted to supervise for very long, leaving Darcy alone to do her very important work. 

Which obviously meant sending _Sherlock_ puns to Bucky.

“Darcy.”

Darcy jerked in her chair, her phone clattering to her desk, “Dad!” 

Not even being the boss’s disappointing daughter stashed away in the basement saved her from surprise visits. 

He stared pointedly at the papers scattered across her desk. Then glared at her phone. “Something keeping you from your cell, Darcy?”

All words left Darcy’s mind, “Ummmm….”

He leaned against her desk, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know how many times I’ve found Michael distracted?”

It almost hurt not to roll her eyes at that. “Zero?”

“Zero!” her father confirmed.

She didn’t point out it was because Kelly usually warned Mike when her father was checking up on them. And because he worked 200 days out of the year in their CA office. “Sorry, just distracted today,” but now this was the perfect moment to lay some groundwork. “My date had a question about what time the cruise starts.”

Her father instantly brightened, his eyes lighting up at any mention of his upcoming wedding. “You’ve found a date?”

He didn’t need to sound so surprised. “Yeah, he’ll be with me the whole week.”

“Did you ask Brody from accounting after all?”

Ugh. Brody wanted to date her cleavage, not her. That was one ship she didn’t want to set sail on. “No. Actually, I’ve asked one of Jane’s friends.”

His smile dropped, “That biker gang?”

“They’re a _club,_ ” Darcy corrected. “They’re responsible, community involved, entrepreneurial veterans discharged honorably from the military.”

“They own one auto shop and play bounty hunter when they’re not riding around on those death traps.”

Could he really judge motorcycles when he had so many fancy European toys of his own? Some of them didn’t even have seatbelts. “ _Veterans_. Every single one of them.”

Her father scowled. He couldn’t disparage that. “Not the point Darcy-”

“-I dunno, I think it’s a great point-”

“-bikers are not the kind of people you want to be associated with.” Her father talked over her, “Regardless how they spent their time prior to becoming bikers.”

Why had she even bothered being honest with him? “They run legal businesses, and they help people. This isn’t like _Sons of Anarchy.”_

Her father’s eyes widened, “They have children?”

Hitting her desk with her forehead was starting to feel tempting…”Don’t worry about my date. Worry about not tripping on the way to the altar, or the cream puffs or something.”

He didn’t look like he’d stopped worrying. “Darcy…” he dragged a hand down his face, sighing. “Is this a cry for more money? Are you _trying_ to embarrass me at my wedding?”

Her stomach twisted and shriveled. “Dad. Don’t be like that. I really like this guy.”

“And have you considered why this biker agreed to escort you? It’s hardly a secret how wealthy we are.”

Oh, and there went her self-esteem, writhing and crying on the ground.

Nevermind that she actually _had_ to pay Bucky to be her date.

He squeezed her shoulder quickly, looking uncomfortable. “Just think about Brody? And get those reports to me by five.”

Her phone buzzed on her desk, but her gaze was stuck on her father’s back as he walked out of the little farm of cubicles. Darcy suddenly didn’t feel like sending Sherlock memes to Bucky anymore.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was terrible, but she had no guilt about canceling on Jane. She needed the two hours she would have spent typing up data to eat her bad mood away before Bucky came back. She didn’t need to scare him away with one asshole comment on top of everything else.

Darcy gripped her steering wheel a little tighter. Took a deep breath. So: pizza and ice cream by herself, before breaking Bucky’s heart at the end of series two. Perfect plan.

...which was instantly ruined by the line of motorcycles lining her driveway, flanking the large truck the AMC used for their auto shop. 

Darcy pulled up behind the bikes, turning her engine off to hear loud sawing, hammers pounding on wood. Bucky stood on her porch, nailing a new railing into the wall while Steve and Thor held it steady.

She looked around. Where was the sawing-

Oh. Clint and Nat stood off to the side of the porch, working on something wooden with a lot of large power tools. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know yet. Lucky laid in the shade away from all the action, gnawing on a pizza squeaky. 

Steve lifted a hand, “Hey Darce.”

She didn’t lift hers back, “What are you doing?”

Bucky kept his gaze on the nails, “Don’t talk out loud, you’ll lower the IQ of the entire yard.”

She rolled her eyes when Steve’s mouth dropped, “ _Bucky.”_

“You are _not_ turning me into Anderson, Barnes. I’m aware you guys are-” she waved a hand at them, “fixing. Why?”

“I put in an assemble order.”

“For my _house_?”

“If there’s anyone who needed help right now…”

She crossed her arms over her chest, “My house isn’t that bad.”

“How many times have you fallen into that porch hole?”

Four times was really not that embarrassing, but he wouldn’t see it that way. “Really, why?”

Bucky shrugged. “I’m making sure your house doesn’t kill you before we can finish _Sherlock.”_

Thor clapped his back. Hard. “You said nothing like that to us.”

Steve wiped his forehead, nodding. “Yeah. Seems Bucky here was worried about his ‘friend’.”

Darcy pressed her hands to her chest, “Bucko! You said I was your friend?”

He scowled at the nickname, “Not anymore.”

“Don’t be like that when we’re finally bonding.” Darcy stretched her arms out, “Hug?”

He rolled his eyes, “It’s not a big deal, Lewis. Sam and Maria are watching the shop, I didn’t feel like working on cars today, and there’s no one to beat up.”

Her heart fluttered. “You’re too sweet.”

Thor moved into her arms when it was clear Bucky wasn’t budging, nearly lifting her off her feet. “Hello, Darcy.”

“Thor!” Darcy squeezed back, struggling to stay on her toes, “You didn’t have to come.”

“I should have come sooner,” he frowned at her. “I wasn’t aware you had so little done.”

She wiggled out of his grasp, “It’s a lot better than it looked before!”

At that perfect moment, a window shutter that had been clinging to the edge of a ledge gave up the fight, and dropped right on Clint’s head.

“...he’s got a hard head, he’ll walk it off.”

Clint moaned from the ground, extending one finger towards her.

Lucky wandered over, dropping his favorite toy to lick the side of Clint’s head. 

Natasha kept sawing, barely sparing a glance to her partner. “Well, she’s not wrong.”

Darcy sighed. “Maybe I haven’t had as much time as I would like to have worked on my house.” She hated to admit it, had wanted to do the bulk of the work herself, but it really fucking sucked to keep falling in that hole. “But the living room is amazing, right?”

Thor gripped her shoulder, and said, very sincerely, “It is magnificent.”

She beamed.

"Hey, why is Clint sleeping on the job?" Tony wandered out her front door, holding a slice of pizza and a screwdriver. He edged around the hole, nibbling on the crust.

"Darcy's house is trying to kill him. Can someone help me with this railing before the porch gets me next?" Bucky glared at Thor, Steve struggling to hold the wood steady without his help.

Tony stuffed the rest of the pizza in his mouth, cheeks bulging, and grabbed the railing with his free hand. "Mus hus murrly huly."

"What?"

He swallowed, "This is really ugly. And not very historically accurate"

Bucky huffed, "It's temporary. She just needed something safe to grab. I wasn't going to pick a baluster pattern without Darcy there." 

Something warm and soft unfurled in her chest, covering the hurt her father left. "Guys. You really didn't have to do this. I don't know what to say."

"Twice in a week?" Clint wheezed from the ground. "Take a picture."

"That's brilliant." Darcy breathed. She absolutely needed to cover her social media feeds with evidence of how kick-ass her friends were, so her dad could suck it. 

She practically bounced up the porch, throwing an arm around Bucky. “Hold up, we’re going to be so fucking precious, Tony will start making Gollum jokes.” She tossed her phone to Thor, waiting for him to obediently hold it up. 

“Stand still right there; you look ridiculously adorably hot.” Darcy grabbed Bucky’s chin, smacking a giant kiss on his cheek. A perfect red imprint stamped over his stubble. “Get it Thor?”

Thor nodded, flashing the photo on her cell. “Precious indeed.”

“That’s gonna get me a million likes on Instagram,” Darcy ran a hand fondly over Bucky’s hair. “I should tell you more often how awesome you are.”

He raised a brow, “Nothing’s stopping you now.”

Darcy cupped both his shoulders, staring deep into his eyes. “James Buchanan Barnes…you are so incredibly awesome.”

He shrugged, “I know.”

And so modest.

Someone jerked Darcy away from Bucky, throwing her back against Steve. Tony hauled Bucky up around the waist, actually lifting him off his feet. "We wants it. We needs it. Must have the precious. They stole it from us. Sneaky little Darcy.”

Bucky wiggled in his grasp, “Damn it, Tony! You’re saying it wrong.”

Tony cackled, managing to take a few steps back…

...and straight into the porch hole. 

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter three times. That's my only excuse for why it's so late. 
> 
> (Also, chapter 8 is 'technically' done but I hate it. So that'll get posted when I figure out what's wrong with it.)

**Chapter 7**

** Seven days before: **

“Here, I got you something that will help.”

“Drugs?” Bucky croaked from the hospital bed; eyes screwed shut.

“Better.” Darcy let the cold cup brush his neck. “Milkshake. It’s from Sonic instead of Johnny Rockets, but I figured I still owed you so…”

Bucky groaned, yet held his hand out for the cup, fingers twitching.

A few hours ago, his pitiful attention seeking would have worked. He’d gotten hurt working on Darcy's nearly condemned house, and she felt bad. But after spending all night in the emergency room next to a whiny Clint and a drunk guy badly quoting Hamilton with a musket ball lodged in his foot?

Darcy dropped the cup on his nipple, smirking at his yelp. “Come on, you big baby, I’ve seen you try to walk off a broken leg. This is barely a scratch.” She patted his cheek, “You didn’t even bruise your pretty face.” Just his pretty chest, but she was doing her best not to objectify him while he was vulnerable and wounded.

For now. 

His eyes blinked open. “It’s seven stitches that's keeping me from Sherlock. Unless we can watch it now?” 

At 1:30 am in this sad little room in the hospital? “No.”

“Clint warned me you were mean.” He snatched the milkshake from her, sucking greedily on the straw. “And don’t forget all the splinters. Your house is literally a death trap. Shoulda fixed the hole first.”

“I think you would have had to actually die for that to be ‘literal.'” Darcy sat on the edge of Bucky's bed, “It would be a lot worse if Tony hadn’t softened your fall.”

Bucky huffed. “Maybe next time, he won’t misquote Tolkien.”

“Yes. That’s clearly the takeaway from all this.” She took the cup back, stealing her own sip. “You realize you’ve managed to sabotage almost every attempt I’ve made to practice our fake couple-ness before my father’s wedding?”

Outrage replaced pain, “What did I do?”

Darcy ticked reasons off on her fingers, “Missed dinner to beat up a bunch of bikers, late on your cheat sheet, went avenging, and we haven’t even come close to dance practice.”

“Oh, dancing’s not hard.”

Yeah, sure. Darcy's left foot still ached when it rained thanks to the last clumsy financial supervisor she’d been guilted into dancing with at her father’s function. “Our first official night is tomorrow. The only thing we’ve managed to accomplish is new clothes for you…” she trailed off at the guilty look on his face. “You didn’t buy any new clothes.”

“I did. Just not with your credit card.”

“Buckyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

“You can’t whine at me if I got hurt in your honor.”

“Yeah, I can. Watch me,” Darcy leaned in closer, “Buckyyyyyyyyyyyyyy.”

The curtain separating them from the rest of the room snapped back. “I need a break from Tony, but if you’re too busy moaning at Bucky…” Steve hovered in the open space, innocent face screwed onto his troll-y head.

Darcy jerked back from Bucky’s ear, blushing. “Sure. Is the Royal Pain-In-Our-Ass living up to his name?”

“I sprained my coccyx, Lewis!” Tony snapped from his bed, trying to rear up on his hips. He flopped back on his stomach, resting his head on his arms. “I didn’t break my ass. So where’s _my_ milkshake?”

“Out in the yard.” Darcy handed the cup back to Bucky. “I only deliver milkshakes to people I’m fake dating.”

Bucky smirked around the straw, sucking loudly.

“You’ll pay for that.” Tony grumbled into his elbow, “Next time I teach you something, I’m gonna have to charge.”

And now that song was going to be stuck in her head all night. “I’m pretty sure we can leave whenever you feel like putting a shirt on. Unless you want to wait for Tony and Clint?”

Slowly sitting up, Bucky’s hand hovering over the cut like his guts were going to spill out, he shook his head. “Tony and Clint can fend for themselves.”

“It’s a dangerous business, Bucky, going out of the hospital and leaving your friends behind!” Tony squirmed on the plastic donut under him, doing his best to glare.

“Still wrong,” Bucky muttered. “Fuck off.”

Darcy didn’t normally like Tolkien fanboys, but his whining was adorable. Jesus Christ, she had it bad. “I think Steve wants to frown at you some more before we go. I’ll bring the car around, and you can meet me out front.” She needed the chance to get her hormones to settle down before being alone with him again.

And an opportunity to quietly settle his hospital bill. Since it was her house that had tried to kill him, she was probably honor bound to repay the debt or something. She could deal with his wounded male pride about it tomorrow when it was too late to do anything about it.

Bucky nodded, reaching for the AMC t-shirt Steve grabbed from the clubhouse. She left before she could watch the muscles in his stomach bunch up as he pulled it carefully over his head.

She glanced at Steve, “Make sure he doesn’t fall into any more holes while I’m gone?”

Steve shrugged. His usual endurance and patience seemed to actually be failing him after spending all night dealing with a whiny, needy, Tony. “No promises.”

“Super.” That was encouraging.

Tony wiggled his fingers at her, sluggish under the drugs. “You’ve got the only hole he wants to fall in, Lewis.”

Darcy grimaced. She very carefully did not look at Bucky. “That was bad, even for you.”

He scowled, “Clint appreciates me.”

“Clint’s got a concussion. He could still come up with a better joke than that.”

Tony gasped, morally offended. “Steve! Bring me to Legolas so he can laugh at my joke.”

Darcy snorted, her laughter caught in her throat.

Bucky frowned at her, annoyed. “Legolas wouldn’t laugh at that!” He thought for a beat. “Gimli probably would.”

Steve turned his own frown on Darcy. She escaped before she could feel guilty about it. 

The hospital was still bustling, even in the early hour. Darcy stopped at the desk to pay Bucky’s bill, avoiding the eyes of the Hamilton guy who was loudly talking about polishing his rifle. She couldn’t be sure if that was a euphemism or not. She was definitely sure she didn’t want to know.

She slipped her credit card back into her wallet, digging through her purse for her keys, trying to look distracted. Any further mention of rifles was muffled behind the hospital door, and luckily no one in the waiting room seemed eager to learn her opinions about musket balls.

Darcy spun her keys around her finger, feeling very satisfied with herself. She’d gotten to see Bucky shirtless and pouty. All in all, not a bad day. She just had to ignore that her house put three Avengers in the hospital.

(Though she was looking forward to rubbing that in their faces when they were healed up. And maybe going 6 for 7. Because no way was Natasha going to fall for her house’s tricks.)

So everything was looking-

“Where are the pills?”

Darcy froze midstep. Tucked back around the corner, one eye barely peeking around. 

The biker crowding the nurse into the wall didn’t seem to fit the Hydra vest covering his back. His face was too clean, too aristocratic, even with the eye patch covering a mess of scars. He looked like he should have been a pirate king, not a follower of Hydra.

The nurse met his eyes. “I told you before; I’m not selling.”

“So a gift instead? How generous.” The biker leaned into him, fisting the neck of his scrubs. “Don’t make me ask again. I’d hate for something to happen to your 2004 Ford or that lovely apartment on 1287 Hillcrest Drive.”

The nurse’s face fell, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. But I need time-”

“You’ve had time. And now your time is up.”

The nurse's face twisted in fear, swallowing hard. “Man, I could lose my job for this.”

Her mind raced. She didn't know if she had time to text any of the guys, but she couldn't stand here and do nothing either.

The biker pushed his face closer to the nurse, slowly sliding a knife out of his pocket. “I don’t care-”

She couldn't wait any longer, even if she had no real plan. “NURSE!” Darcy darted around the corner, panting. “I need your help! My boyfriend is an idiot!”

The two men stopped in place. Stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. Even the biker.

She was suddenly questioning whether that was the best distraction.

Darcy cleared her throat, letting her gaze linger on the biker’s fingers still at the nurse’s throat. “So maybe you should come now before he does something exceptionally stupid to keep himself here longer.”

The biker slowly uncurled his fingers from the nurse's scrub, letting him slide down the wall. “You go get my pills.”

“Don’t get his pills!!!” Oh god, she was really an idiot. And she didn't even have her taser.

The nurse looked between them, clearly unsure what to do.

The biker took one step towards Darcy. “This doesn't concern you.”

Don’t be a smartass, don’t be a smartass, don’t be- “I’m one of those sad adults that can’t swallow pills, sure. But I still need that nurse. You can blackmail him later.”

Her subconscious was screaming. It reminded her faintly of Bucky.

“Don’t think I can’t blackmail you as well, Darcy Lewis.” The biker flicked his hand, and the nurse went running. “I’m well aware of the weak links in the Avengers.”

Her heart nearly stopped. She was alone in a hallway with a scary biker who knew her name, her taser was locked away in her car, and she pissed him off.

Tony and Clint were never going to stop making fun of her for this.

"I get that you're going for being intimidating right now-" and succeeding really well at that, oh holy shit, "-but it's hard to be scared of someone I don't know."

The biker smirked. "Oh, you're going to know me very well. Just after business hours."

Tony was officially usurped as the Royal Creep. And this seemed like a great segway to get away. Darcy started to backstep, keeping her eyes firmly on the biker's hands. "Yeah, well, I'm just realizing it's not a good idea to be in a hallway alone with you now that I've saved that nurse, so I'm going to run away. Nice not knowing you!" 

The biker blinked innocently, casually following her. "But who will save your boyfriend?"

Ugh, she needed to think better under pressure. "Guess it's down to me as a modern, self-rescuing princess. Thanks for the concern."

"You're not going to be much help to Barnes for long."

No wonder Bucky took so much pleasure in avenging if all their enemies were this annoyingly scary. "I'm going to stop engaging with you because that seems like a bad idea, so-"

The door had to be close, even if Darcy was too afraid to turn her back to this guy and look.

The door swung open, nearly clipping her in the arm. “Get the fuck back, Von Strucker.”

Bucky nudged his way past her, hiding her behind his massive shoulders. His arms hung tense at his side like he hadn’t been hugging his 'terrible' injury earlier. No hint of any lingering pain or weakness.

Darcy almost rolled her eyes at his back but slipped her phone out of her pocket instead. Who knew Bucky Barnes liked to whine to get sympathy points?

“Just the man I wanted to see.” Von Strucker smiled at Darcy’s snort. 

“We don’t have a warrant for your arrest, yet, but I’ll make some shit up if you speak to her again.” Bucky shoved her further behind him, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Von Strucker clicked his tongue, “Still not a very good listener, Barnes.”

“I listen fine. I just don’t want to hear the bullshit about to pour out of your mouth.” Bucky blindly reached behind him until he grabbed hold of Darcy’s arm. “And we’re definitely not doing it now.”

He very carefully kept himself between Darcy and the biker, dragging her past him to the exit.

Von Strucker smirked at her, leaning back against the wall. “You listen to me now, and I’ll give you three of my men with arrest warrants.”

Bucky paused, foot hovering in mid-air for a split moment. “Fuck you. We’ll get those guys anyway.”

Darcy yanked on his sleeve, “But what about the dancing-”

_“Darcy.”_

That was an actually an excellent point. Darcy shut up.

Didn’t mean she was any happier about maybe losing more time with him, but this probably wasn’t the place to bring that up.

“Then I guess I’ll see you both later,” He called out at their backs.

Bucky froze, entire body stiff. He glanced down at her, obviously weighing what to do. "Fuck," Bucky muttered, spinning around. Still very careful to keep Darcy out of sight. "You have one minute."

Von Strucker smoothed down the front of his cut, studying one of the patches like he was looking for dirt. Clearly taking his time. "We have a mutual problem."

"Your face?" Darcy said into Bucky's back.

He pinched her arm.

"Your father." He returned coolly, "He doesn't know what he's getting himself into."

Darcy flinched, hand flying up to Bucky's shirt. She twisted her fingers in it like it was some kind of security blanket.

"He's backing a state representative that wants motorcycle curfews. That's going to cut into both our clubs."

Darcy relaxed slightly. That wasn't so bad. It sounded like it was going to be worse.

"And he owes us money."

Dread rushed back so fast she swayed behind Bucky.

"What's the debt for?" Bucky sounded too calm.

Von Strucker shrugged, "He knows what it's for. Your problem is going to come in when we take our cut out of his daughter instead."

Bucky’s back tensed so hard she was surprised his spine didn’t snap in half. "None of us are going to let that happen."

Von Strucker smirked at Darcy over Bucky's shoulder, "Then I suggest you convince her father of that." He glanced down at his watch, "And not a second too soon. Have fun at the wedding, you two love birds." He shoved his hands in his pockets, whistling down the hall past them. "Since you took the Darcy-bait, you won't be getting those three men. They're making deliveries if you'd like to try to catch them. Night now."

The door swung behind him, the whistling abruptly cut off.

Her heart didn't stop pounding.

"How worried do I have to be?" Darcy asked, just to break the silence. She wasn't sure she really wanted to know.

"Not at all." Bucky kept hold of her arm as they walked towards the door, and she wasn't about to let him go herself. "Where the hell was Steve?"

"Dunno." Her phone was still silent after the quick SOS text she'd sent him. "Maybe he's too busy glaring at Tony?"

Bucky grunted his mind clearly on something else.

"So when you say not at all-"

"I mean don't even think about it, because it's not going to be an issue for you. The club isn't going to let Hydra near you, no matter what your dad's involved in." He grabbed the door for her, scanning the parking lot. "Just worry about making me look good tomorrow."

"But you always look good," Darcy said without thinking.

He flashed her an absent smile, eyes on the parked cars. “You’re definitely good for my ego.”

“I try.” Not really, but it seemed worse to admit this stuff just popped out of her mouth. “What are you even doing out of bed? Shouldn’t you be off writhing in pain?”

“I was in pain over missing _Sherlock_ , not so much over the chest wound. And it’s not like I was going to let you walk across a parking lot this late by yourself.”

Warmth rippled across her chest. “That’s sweet. But back to the worrying thing-”

Bucky stopped walking, spinning around to face her. He let go of her arm to grab her shoulders, staring straight into her eyes. She couldn't look away, her stomach flipping. “Darcy. As long as I’m around, you have nothing to worry about.”

It felt less like reassurance and more like a solemn vow.

Darcy licked her suddenly dry lips, the rest of her body frozen. Butterflies were so thick in her stomach they nearly flew out of her throat. But since he delivered the opening right into her hands: “Well, I’m also worried about the dancing. How are you fixing that?”

His hands dropped from her shoulders, and she nearly leaned into him. Bucky stepped back, rolling his eyes. “Give me your phone.”

Anyone else would have gotten laughter and a sharp comment. Bucky got her passcode.

He clicked around before music poured out of the tiny speakers, something soft and light. He set her phone on a nearby car before gathering her into his arms, one hand holding hers and the other placed on her back, just a little too low to be entirely polite.

Bucky swept her across the asphalt, perfect form and nowhere near stepping on her toes. “My mother forced me into dance lessons. You don’t worry about this either.”

Darcy couldn’t help but follow him, spinning around a parking lot. “But it’s my dad.” She couldn’t let that go.

“And we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about your dad, the jerk, this wedding, none of it. I’ve got you.” He didn’t break his gaze away from her, carefully dipping her over his arm.

And Darcy started to believe him.

His eyes fell to her lips. She craned her neck up, hoping he would go further than just looking.

_“My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like, it’s better than yours-”_

Bucky jerked at the sudden song change, eyes wide. He almost dropped her, barely setting her back on her feet in time.

Darcy couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden shift in mood, relived the moment was shattered. “What’s wrong Bucky? I thought you could dance!” She threw her hands in the air, making her best impression of a human wave, “La la, la la la AAAA AAAA-”

His smirk grew at the challenge. “Lewis, I’m just gettin’ started.” His knees bent, and he swayed his hips in a ridiculous wiggle, arms spazzing into jazz hands. “The boys are waiting-”

Darcy squealed, jumping up and down. “You know the song!?!”

“You’d have to be in a coma over a decade not to love this song.” He snapped his elbows around in a bad imitation of the Carlson, shimmying his shoulders into it.

Her laughter was growing to dangerous snorting levels, but she couldn’t stop, her chest aching. “This is the best moment of my life.”

He grabbed her hand, twirling her around in a circle. “What if I punch out your jerk for you?”

She couldn’t even be mad he’d brought him up when she was feeling so light and hopeful and good. And it’s not like Mike needed his face whole after the wedding was over.

Darcy grinned up at him, “Ask me again in a week.”


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has technically been done since last December, but I hated it and refused to look at it for eleven months. Thanks to purpleann for the lovely review that nudged me into taking a second look at it and decide it's not so bad after all!
> 
> I have another project for NaNoWriMo, but I want to come back to this when that's over. If anyone has any ideas for how the Lewis Wedding Week can go wrong in hilarious/terrible ways, let me know! (I have an outline, but it's pretty weak if I'm being honest.) I can't give you anything of real value, but you'll have my unending love and admiration for all time.
> 
> (Sorry the itinerary got a little screwy, but I wanted to post this before I changed my mind)

**Chapter Eight**

**__** _Six Days Before..._

 

Darcy probably took too much pleasure in shredding the itinerary into tiny little pieces of paper. It wasn't mature, environmentally friendly, or considerate towards the mansion's staff. 

And yet? She ripped the sheet into as many pieces as possible until there was nothing left to tear. The white scraps fluttered to the expensive carpet like snowflakes, scattering around her heels. 

Her hands shook, chest tightening under her fancy dress. She was having trouble catching her breath, and she knew it wasn't because of the gown. 

She leaned against the dresser in the hallway, fingers digging into the edge of the marble top. Needing something to cling to for a moment. 

The mirror hanging above the armoire wasn't showing her inner turmoil at least. Not after the army of makeup artists her father employed had done their job. 

She moved closer to the glass, breathing slowly so she could focus on the air filling her lungs. Her hair gathered in an elegant bun just under her ear, dark tendrils carefully arranged to look careless. Diamond studs borrowed from her mother's collection glittered on her ears, subtle so she wasn't overwhelmed by the jeweled belt looped around her waist. Her green dress was deceptively simple, like a column of fabric that brushed the floor but reinforced to tuck her waist in and her breasts up. Blush covered her pale skin, and the cleavage she insisted on would distract from the nerves making her shake. She looked like a magnificent forest fairy lady, and it wasn't fucking helping her _breathe._

She squeezed her eyes closed, moving her shoulders around. "C'mon Darcy, you can do this. Get your head in the game." Screw anyone who said _High School Musical_ wasn't an inspirational soundtrack. 

At least the hallway was empty so the one only she embarrassed was herself when she started humming _Bop to the Top._

"Hey, sorry I'm late, I got lost in the- _woah."_ Bucky stopped short, his mouth dropping wide open.

And goddamn it, she couldn't even enjoy how amazingly hot he was in his fancy blue suit or how she stopped him dead in his tracks. Yesterday, she would have been all about preening under his shocked awe. Especially after that almost kiss she'd hadn't decided yet she was glad got ruined by Kelis. Tonight, she was lucky if she could keep her lunch down.

And it was such a shame because his fancy duds could definitely compete with his grease monkey look. The royal blue contrasted with her green without looking too annoyingly matchy, his tie was the right kind of shiny, and he'd shaved and done something to make his hair swoop over his head. She could just barely enjoy him with the nerves rumbling in her stomach. 

Darcy smoothed her hands down the emerald satin, playing with the jeweled rope wrapped around her hips to hide any lingering trembling. She needed to deflect before she passed her anxiety onto him like some kind of contagious, jumpy bug. "I know, right? I was binge watching _Mad Men_ when I ordered the gown and I knew I needed a belt detail when I saw Joan wearing that blue dress, but I wanted a _real_ belt because it looked so hot and I didn't want to try to copy Joan _too_ much because no one can be Joan like Christina Hendricks-"

Bucky carefully took her hand, pressing it between two of his own. She vaguely noticed he'd covered his metal hand with a flesh colored latex piece, finding it easier to look at that then his stupid attractive face. "Darcy."

She nearly bit her tongue. "Yes?"

He stared down at her, squeezing her hand. "Are you nervous?"

She rolled her eyes, "What gave it away?" She gasped, "Oh no, was it my stellar conversation skills?"

"You always talk too fast and never make sense." He tapped her fingers, "You looked like you were trying to keep your hands busy so you didn't strangle yourself." 

"Shit." Her eyes dropped again, her heart racing for a whole other reason when she looked too long at his cheekbones. "Listen, I'll be alright when we get in there, I just stress a little when I have too much time to think-"

"Are you worried about your family and Hydra? Because I told you not to worry."

"You can't order someone _not_ to worry," Darcy rolled her eyes. "And I am worried, but it doesn't feel like an immediate threat. It's not like I can just ask him why he owes money to an outlaw biker group at his engagement dinner." She paused. "Well I probably _could_ but I would definitely get disowned."

"I don't care if you think I can't, I'm still telling you Hydra is not going to be your problem. So don't start worrying about that. But fine, shelving that for now." he pursed his lips, studying her for a long moment. "Is your jerk in there?" Bucky asked, voice low and calm and so steady and instantly understanding and Darcy wanted to ruin his clothes with her relieved sobbing. 

"Yeah. He'll be in there by now. We're late and he's just going to be so smug about it-"

"Obviously, Lewis. We're way too good looking not to make a dramatic entrance. Jerk can just suck it up." Bucky carefully drew her hand to his crook of his elbow, holding it in place with his other hand. It was all very respectful and polite, but his thumb stroked her skin, sending her nerve endings swooning. "You listen, Darcy. While I'm here, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. And I'm not going anywhere. Your best fake man has your back. The jerk is going to be pissing his pants before this week is through."

Tension eased out of her shoulders, chest loosening up a little. "Alright. I've got this."

"Hell yeah, you do." Bucky gently eased her towards the double doors at the end of the hall, a polite servant pretending not to see them yet. "Just try to enjoy the week. Your dad's wedding should be happy, yeah?"

Darcy snorted, not feeling like explaining yet even if she owed him one. "Sure. Just absolutely, amazingly, joyous." 

But damn it, his furrowed brow made her want to spill every dark secret she'd ever kept. She stopped in the hall, struggling for the words. "So something you should know..."

"Is this TV or family related? Because if it's about _Sherlock-_ "

"Family." She leaned into him, even though she was sure the servant knew because servants end up knowing everything when you treated them like furniture and not human beings with functioning ears. "Dad and Kelly-they've been together twelve years, but they couldn't be public about it for at least seven of those years."

His eyes sharpened in understanding. "She was married."

Darcy nodded, "And the jerk-Mike-has never been very accepting of that, no matter how much Dad believes he's bonded with him since then." 

He glanced at the doors, jaw tight. "And he took it out on you." 

"So no matter how you act, he's still not going to act very-" Darcy struggled to find a word, not wanting to risk an annoyed Bucky the rest of the evening, "-pleasant." 

"Oh, I'm going to make his punk ass act 'pleasant'. Don't worry about that." Bucky squeezed her hand, "Thank you for telling me."

She managed a short nod, desperate for a change in subject. "So that's why before we start this hell week, I need to give you this." She dipped into her cleavage, pulling out a small folded envelope. "Even if all the rich snobs in there run you off five minutes in, I want you to have the check for your arm."

He blinked at her boobs, looking a little dazed before her words sunk through. "Is your cell in there...wait no, not the point right now. You don't have to give me this now, we haven't even gone in yet-"

"No." She tucked it in his jacket pocket, pushing it down so she could brush her fingertips across his chest. "Right now. I don't know how this week is going to go, and no matter what happens, I want to make sure you can get your prosthetic looked at."

He touched his pocket, other hand curling. "Darcy, I don't feel right getting paid for this anymore."

"Too bad. If you're going to whine about it, I'll get Natasha to hack your checking account so I can just direct deposit it." 

His eyes dropped to a random swirl on the carpet, tracing it like it held all the _Sherlock_ season four spoilers.

"Hey, don't be weird about this. I wasn't doing anything interesting with that money anyway. If I can get fuckboy buffer for this shindig and help you fix your arm at the same time? Totally worth it."

Bucky sighed, dropping his hand to gather her's again. He gave up the fight quicker than she would have guessed, suggesting he really did need the money even if he wasn't happy about it. "Thank you, Darcy. I don't know what to say."

"Don't get too grateful on me now. You're going to earn every cent of it this week." She tugged on his arm, trying to pull him free of his weird mood. "Ready to get this over with?"

He dropped Darcy's hand in favor of slipping an arm around her waist, gently toying with one of the tassels that dangled from her belt. So much more inappropriate than the elbow hold, but an embarrassing part of her loved being tucked close to him, blatantly showing who she'd come with. The heat of him sunk through her skin, settling warm inside her. 

"I'm definitely ready to eat." He adjusted his pace to match hers, high heels slowing her down a bit. "Have I mentioned I love this belt thing?"

"No, but you totally should."

"I really love this belt thing." He tugged lightly on it before letting it go, palm cupping her hip. "And Darcy? The rich snobs aren't going to run me off."

Darcy wasn't as convinced. "We'll see."

She nodded at the servant, who suddenly pretended he had just noticed them. He pulled open the door, "Have a nice dinner sir and madam."

"Thanks," she said, trying to meet his eyes. 

She lifted her chin, nerves steeling themselves and heart calming now that this moment was finally here. She leaned closer into Bucky, her hand settling onto his back. "Remember the game plan?"

"Act like Steve around Carter, but without the longing stupidity around your family. Act like Steve eyeing down a homophobic sexist racist around the jerk."

Darcy bit her lip, "That's actually the most perfect analogy I've ever heard." 

He straightened his tie, "I try." 

One last breath. And they stepped through the doorway and into her father's engagement dinner. 

The ballroom was easily the largest room in the mansion her father had rented for this blessed event, just as large as a football field. For tonight it had been converted into a dining area, half the room taken up by tables, the other half left for dancing. The poor orchestra was crammed into the wings, strumming their instruments quietly by candlelight. 

It reminded her of the ballroom in _Beauty and the Beast_ , but Trumpifed to a thousand. Gold shimmered on the walls, on the floor, on the tables, on the ceiling, and even glittering in the little veins running through the marble columns holding up the roof. Windows stretched the entire length of one wall, leading out to the mansion balcony and gardens. Diamond chandeliers dripped from the roof, sparkling little rainbows throughout the room. The only other light was the real candles burning on the tables and the walls, illuminating the party in a soft, romantic light. 

Bucky whistled low. "Jesus Christ. Did you forget to mention in your little fact sheet that your dad uses the same decorator as Donald Trump?"

Darcy snorted, trying to cover it with a cough. "I was just thinking something like that."

They were only about twenty minutes late, but it was enough that her father's guests were already seated and all attention moved from their salads to the two of them standing on the top of the staircase. 

"I told you we didn't have enough time to finish _Sherlock,_ " Darcy muttered. 

"There is always time for _Sherlock."_ Bucky corrected, letting go of her waist to take her hand, steadying her as she found her balance on the steps. 

A camera flashed at the bottom of the stairs, her father's team of wedding photographers descending on them like locust. She smiled at them, nudging Bucky with her elbow. "Anytime you want to start looking desperately in love with me would be good..."

"What makes you think I haven't started?"

Darcy glanced up at him, her heart nearly stopping. He held her hand so carefully, patient while she navigated the steps in her heels. His eyes were filled with so much warmth, his lip curled up in a fond half grin. Like he was perfectly happy to be used as her human railing, pleased with the opportunity to be close to her and just soak her up. 

Her lungs seized up, and she wasn't quite sure she remembered how to breathe. Longing swept through her, bitterness curling in her stomach. 

She wanted that look to be real, goddamn it. 

Her heel missed the next step, her body abruptly in free fall towards the open air. 

Bucky moved with her, hauling her back with his grip on her hand and sweeping his arm under her knees. 

Damn it. Not only had he swept her off her feet, he had to go and do it literally too.

Her heart swooped, heat flushing her cheeks.

He smirked down at her, "That's alright, doll. I'll sweep you off your feet whenever you want."

The photographers chuckled, getting in their shots as Bucky made the rest of the way down with her pressed against his chest, setting her back on her feet carefully. "You got it?"

Darcy nodded, hoping the weakness in her knees was from hunger and not his smile. "I've got it."

He flashed a brilliant smile at the camera's, tucking his arm with hers. "Excuse us."

The photographers parted like Moses himself had commanded them, looking a little awestruck. Bucky had that effect on people when he wasn't playing the hermit biker.

They swept past the other times, Darcy managing nods and small smiles at her father's guests. She refused to acknowledge the women eyeing Bucky, knowing it was too early tonight to start baring her teeth yet. 

The family table sat in the very center of the room, a round surface matching the guests when Darcy expected her father to sit on a dais far above everyone else. The chairs were a little grander, the flower centerpieces a little fuller than the others, but essentially the same. She was sure if she asked her father about it, he'd say something about wanting a 'casual' celebration with his closest family and friends. 

Her father stood as they neared the table, pressing a quick kiss to Kelly's cheek. He'd kept fit in his increasingly old age, his body showing none of the paunch that was beginning to plague his friends. His dark hair swept back over his head, the few silver hairs he allowed to remain so he could look distinguished glinted in the candlelight. Very few lines creased his face but just added to that silver fox appeal she'd heard her future stepmother sighing over. Growing up, Darcy privately believed she had taken mostly after her father, aside from having her mother's blue eyes instead of his hazel. She could never be actually sure if it bothered him.

Ray Lewis pulled sharply on his tux, attention focused on his approaching daughter and not the whispering tables surrounding them. He openly studied Bucky, letting very little show on his face. 

Bucky finally let go of Darcy so she could hug her father, his familiar aftershave sharp in her nose. "Congratulations, dad." 

"Thank you, Darcy," he embraced her back quickly, before stepping away, a small frown turning down his lips. "You're late."

"I'm afraid that's my fault, sir. I lose complete track of time whenever I'm with your daughter." Bucky offered his hand, easily meeting Ray's eyes. "James Buchanan Barnes." 

Darcy would have high fived him if it wouldn't have looked out of place. Her father _loved_ directness _._

"Ray Lewis." A little more interest gleamed in his eyes, giving Bucky a genuine handshake. He hadn't been won over, but it was a good start. "It's good to meet you." He gestured towards Kelly, "This is my fiance, Kelly, soon-to-be Lewis."

Kelly chuckled, standing to offer her own hand. "Please to meet you." 

Kelly looked like nothing of her mother, something Darcy wondered about when she couldn't sleep at night. Her hair, skin, and dress shone like gold in the light, matching the ballroom in a way that looked classy instead of clashing. She was a respectable forties to her father's fifties, saving Ray from becoming a cliche by marrying a trophy wife. Putting aside the cheating on her first husband, she was a genuinely nice person, no matter how much Darcy sometimes wished she was a gold digger she could _Parent Trap_ away from her dad. 

"And this is her son, and my future stepson," Ray reached out a hand, clapping Mike on the shoulder, "Michael Kruger."

Darcy dug her nails into her palm, screwing a smile on her face that hopefully wouldn't make her look constipated as Bucky politely shook Mike's hand. 

Mike was handsome in a smooth, privileged way. Like a slimy country club boy grown up to take over companies that killed small businesses and forced orphans into sweat shops. He matched Kelly's coloring; blonde hair, and tan skin, but with more defined muscles than Darcy remembered seeing before. 

But he hadn't even come from a privileged background like her. His dad had owned a hardware store, his wife seeking a better job at Ray's company when they hit on hard times. He knew what it was like to work, to want. He'd reformed himself in her father's world, shaping himself on backroom deals and caviar. 

It made him twice as dangerous as anyone Kelly ever tried to throw at her. 

He smiled at her, eyes flat and cold. "Darcy."

Bucky didn't need to squeeze his hand with the way his jacket sleeve tightened around his bicep. "Darcy's told me a lot about you, Mikey. It's useful to put a face to the name."

Darcy wanted to snort. Like he hadn't had one of the hackers in the club drag up every scrap of information they could find about Mike. 

But the subtle warning left her warm, Darcy silently squeezing his back in thanks. 

Mike frowned, "It's actually-"

"Oh, that's so nice of you, Darcy!" Kelly beamed, dragging her in for a close hug. Darcy could almost feel her studying Bucky over her shoulder. "Please, sit, sit! I want to hear all about your life and how you two met." She winked at Darcy, visibly approving. 

Bucky pulled out Darcy's chair for her, waiting until Kelly sat as well before taking his own. With Mike seated next to Kelly, he made sure to sit next to her future stepbrother, keeping a buffer between the two of them.

Her heart soared, breath caught in her throat. She _knew_ asking Bucky would be a good idea.

Bucky rested his hand lightly on her back, her skin tingling from where his fingertips rested on the edge of her dress. His touch was a grounding post, giving her something to focus on instead of Mike and how potentially painful this dinner might be. 

"So James," Ray shook his napkin out, settling it back over his lap. He ignored his salad, fixing Bucky with an unblinking focus. "Tell us about yourself." 


End file.
